


Free From Fire

by Jedtree



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Other, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Protective Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Russian Mafia, Self-Sacrificing Eddie Brock, Venom stalking Eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedtree/pseuds/Jedtree
Summary: Eddie chooses to pursue a story that puts them in life-threatening danger. To save Venom from his own inevitable demise, he finds a way to force the symbiote into a new host. Someone better, more fitting, more worthy.Venom is pissed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Man, that's an unfortunate title. Why did I pick it? Lack of creativity and good alliteration. 
> 
> Inspired by this song (and the video): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyDi8kI9gp0
> 
> Seems like if anyone could cause Venom problems without being super-enhanced, it'd be the Russian Mafia. 
> 
> I can be found posting randomness on Twitter @jedtree and laying foundations for an internet home on https://jedtree.tumblr.com/
> 
> Comments would be greatly appreciated. They're 100% my motivation for writing. Especially if you can let me know how to improve :)

As Eddie’s knotting his tie in preparation for his interview, he can feel Venom writhing beneath his skin. 

**Don’t do it** , he seethes. 

“Look, V, I’m telling you, this is the story of a lifetime. It could reanimate the cold corpse of my dead career.”

**It’s too dangerous.**

“How would you know?”

**We know what you know, Eddie. The Russian Mafia is dangerous.**

“What are you even worried about? These guys are human. They’re no match for us. If anyone has the power to safely call out the Bratva, it’s us.” 

Eddie feels Venom lapping at his memories, uncertain. Likely, he can taste the healthy fear that pervades all his pre-Venom impressions of mobs, cartels, and organized crime as a whole. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to be alright,” he says with real confidence, patting the front of his buttoned up shirt.

Grudgingly, Venom lets him walk out his front door. 

  
  


Across town, Eddie tries not to feel underdressed as he enters the lobby of a beautiful hotel. Weaving between the columns that sprout from an expanse of marble, Eddie notices the chandeliers hanging overhead, delicate crystals twinkling in the soft daylight that pours through floor-to-ceiling windows. 

**Fancy. This news story will pay well?**

Eddie hums his affirmative. 

**Will we be able to move into a place like this?**

Now that Eddie has a job, he’s more careful about answering Venom out loud. Fishing his phone out, he scrolls through his apps aimlessly as he murmurs, “You like this kind of place? I thought you appreciated our grunge lifestyle.”

**What makes you happy, makes us happy** , Venom stresses, as if hoping if he repeats it enough, Eddie will start to believe it.  **You like bright, sunny places.**

“I could just get a sun lamp,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes at the impeccably dressed maitre’d, the grand staircase, and the immaculate furniture. “This place looks like a museum.” 

The doorman who's still within hearing distance bites down on a grin.

 

There are butterflies in Eddie’s stomach as he takes the elevator to the fifteenth floor.

**If neither of us wants to do this, why are you forcing us?**

“Because a lot of times the things that make you grow the most are the things you most don’t want to do,” Eddie says, petting soothingly along the black tendrils rising across his forearms.

Once the doors slide open, all it takes is a quick glance down the hall to determine which room the interview is obviously going to be in. 

Eddie’s fifteen minutes early, but already there’s a pair of beefed up security guys, outfitted with suits, shiny shoes, sunglasses, and earpieces, standing guard outside of the room. Like the name of their position in the hierarchy implies, they’re built like bulls (or Byki). 

It’s a struggle not to flinch as they track his progress down the hall, their backs stiffening as he gets closer. The tension is thick when he stops before them. “Uh, I’m here for the interview?” Eddie says, flashing the press badge with his photo ID. 

Silently, the balder of the two men, knocks four times in a distinct pattern, cocks his head to the side as if listening to his headset, and then opens the door for Eddie.

“Thanks,” he squeezes past the two men’s significant shoulder bulk.

**So polite** , Venom teases. 

Ignoring him, Eddie fixes his posture and strides into the room with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

There’s a man sitting in a corner of the room, away from the windows, facing the door. And, funnily enough, he looks exactly like Eddie imagines a mid-level mafioso would - hair slicked back, wearing an expensive suit, a lit cigarette between two of his fingers. Only one problem. 

Eddie’s supposed to be meeting a Boyevik - one of the “warriors” of the Bratva. This man doesn’t look like much of a warrior. The only source of comfort is that the man seems rather slim, features almost lanky and poised. 

Still, thank fuck for Venom. 

**Happy to be of service.** He can feel the symbiote purr inside him, the shocks of which tingle beneath his skin. 

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Eddie Brock,” he waves his press badge, awkwardly, not wanting to assume Todorov remembers his name. “I want to thank you for agreeing to take this interview. It’s great to finally be meeting you in person, Mr. Todorov.” 

“Call me Semyon. Please,” Todorov says, in a smoother, more cultured accent than Eddie remembers. With a gesture, he directs Eddie to the loveseat that’s standing about half a room’s distance aways from him - not a big deal, but kind of awkward for an interview. 

**Rude** , Venom growls, offended on his behalf.

“Um, sure, no problem…Semyon,” Eddie says, dropping himself onto the indicated cushion. “So, I was thinking I could answer any questions you might have before we begin the interview, if you’d like to go over any logistics, or - ”

“First logistic,” Todorov interrupts. “You drink.” He points to the coffee table where a shot glass stands ready and waiting, filled to the brim with a clear liquid, an open bottle of Spirytus standing beside it. 

Eddie’s heart sinks. Ever since he landed this jackpot of an interview, he’s had doubts that it was going to happen. But getting this far, finally meeting with someone in-person, had given him hope. And it’s at this moment that the hope fizzles away.

**What’s wrong, Eddie?**

No doubt, Venom can feel his rising dread. 

For V’s benefit, he lays out the points in his head. 

_ He asks me to sit far from him, but he could be paranoid.  _

_ His voice isn’t as gruff as it was on the phone, but it’s been weeks since I spoke to him. I could be misremembering.  _

_ But he asks me to drink a shot of Spirytus Rektyfikowany, which has an ABV of 96%? What the hell for? It’s a liver kill switch. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’ll die of alcohol poisoning if he forces me to drink the whole bottle. And it’ll look like a natural death.  _

**You think he wants to kill us?**

_ I...I’m starting to think so, yeah. The only other possibility I can think of is that this is a test. _

**What kind of test?** Venom asks, suspicious and wary.

_ In vino veritas - the idea that if a person drinks enough to be under the influence, they’ll reveal secret thoughts and desires. _

**Does it work?**

Eddie feels a distinct spark of interest from his symbiote.

_ Don’t even think about getting me drunk. Although you might not get the chance if I don’t get out of this alive. _

**Forget the interview and leave.**

_ If he wants us dead, then I don’t think we can, buddy.  _

**We can do whatever we want. Leave.**

_ I don’t want to reveal you if I don’t have to. And if this is a test, then leaving would mean throwing away any kind of rapport I’ve managed to acquire with him.  _

There are prickles along his skin as Venom twists with irritation. Rubbing at his arm, he realizes that he’s been quiet too long. 

Todorov is staring at him, flakes of that friendly veneer having chipped away. “Drink,” Todorov repeats, the command coming out sharper this time. 

What makes him reach for the glass though is Venom.

**Drink.**

_ Are you sure? Hey, what if it’s poisoned? _

**I’ll make sure all of it gets filtered out. Now, drink.**

Eddie knocks back the shot. The alcohol proof is so high that it practically scalds all the way down. Fuck, it’s nasty. Through the glass, he can make out Todorov’s thin-lipped smile. 

_ So, was it safe to drink? _

**Never safe to drink this shit. Humans are stupid. We won’t let you kill off brain cells like this anymore.**

Biting his lip to keep himself from arguing with Venom, Eddie clears his throat. “Do you have any questions about the format of the interview, or would you like to begin?” 

Unfolding his...really fucking tall frame, Todorov stands smoothly and paces forward, catching the neck of the Spirytus bottle. “I’d like to propose a toast to this interview,” Todorov says. “Raise your glass.”

When Eddie complies, he fills it again to the brim. 

“Drink.”

“Uh...doesn’t a toast mean that we both drink?”

Todorov’s cocked eyebrow perfectly illustrates just how stupid he thinks the question is. Without dignifying it with further answer, he asks, “Do you like your job, Eddie?” 

Tossing the second shot down his throat, Eddie shrugs his shoulders, eyes slipping closed, muscles going lax. “Sure. Get to meet a lot of int’restin’ peeeeople who do a lot of int’restin’ thi’gs,” he slurs lazily. 

Todorov pours him another glass. 

“Can you take moooore, V?” Eddie blinks, pretty sure he asked that out loud. 

**Working on it. This is worse than we thought** , Venom rumbles. 

Unfortunately, Todorov wasn’t born yesterday. “Unbutton your shirt,” he says. “And drink.” 

His voice is so cold that Eddie finds himself rushing to comply, one command at a time. As he moves his hands to pop the buttons, alcohol spills down his shirt. 

Losing patience, Todorov doesn’t come around the coffee table. He’s tall enough to catch Eddie’s collar with a long hand. 

**Don’t let him** **_touch_ ** **you** , Venom hisses.

“No choisss, bu-ddy. At least ’s a cheap shirt.” 

With a surprisingly powerful tug, Todorov rips the material right off Eddie’s body and buttons go flying everywhere. Then, satisfied Eddie’s not wearing a wire, he refills the glass again.

“Drink.” 

This shot really goes to Eddie’s head. He’s actually starting to sway in his seat. Fuck, the effects are so damn quick. 

**Stop it!** **No more!**

“Does anyone know you’re here?” Todorov asks.

Eddie blows bubbles with his spit. Even drunk, it’s really fucking weird when the big, mad Bratva boss takes a seat on the coffee table and wipes the spit off Eddie’s lip with his thumb. It’s even weirder when he  _ licks that spit off his thumb _ . 

**Let us eat him!**

Shit, Venom sounds enraged. 

“Nope,” Eddie says to Venom, unwittingly answering Todorov’s question at the same time.

“Does anyone know you’re working on this story?” 

“Y’r E’glish ‘s so g’d,” Eddie compliments. 

Slipping gloves onto slim hands, Todorov just repeats the question. Silently, he takes the shot glass from Eddie, pours the clear liquid into it, and then waits.

“Not yet,” Eddie admits, momentarily transfixed by the sharp planes of Todorov’s face. “Y’look kin’a like-a mo-d’l. Ev’r been’n Vogue?”

Patronizingly patting his face, Todorov presses the rim of the shot glass to Eddie’s gasping mouth and tips the liquid in. “Swallow,” he commands.

Thoughtlessly, Eddie complies.

**LET. US. EAT. HIM.**

Eddie clutches at his ears as Venom’s voice goes booming through his head. Obviously, the gesture doesn’t help since the noise is coming from inside him. The ringtone that plays from inside Todorov’s pocket is completely drowned out. 

Eddie’s too out of it to hear any of the one-sided dialog being exchanged, which sucks because it’s apparently important enough that the man is on his way out.

It’s bad reporter-ing. He should be listening to conversations that happen right under his nose.

“ Proshchay, pretty boy,” Todorov says, stopping only to ruffle Eddie’s hair before he swans out of the room.

Unfortunately, Venom isn’t ready to be saying goodbye to Todorov. He starts to bubble to the surface. Violently oscillating ropes of his essense criss-cross Eddie’s skin. The process, it turns out, is a lot slower - Venom’s control dampened and tenuous - when Eddie’s body is blind drunk.

Honestly, it’s a miracle that Venom manages to surface in time.

A second later, one of the Byki walks in.  “Avtorityet got called away,” he says as he saunters over the threshold. His smirk freezes and the extended arm holding his silencer droops like a wilted flower as he takes in Venom, now seated on the couch. 

“ **You were saying** ,” the symbiote growls, taking an unsteady hop over the top of the couch. 

Mob training must be pretty rigorous, because the Byk’s hand whips up and he manages to squeeze out two rounds (that harmlessly bounce off Venom’s skin) before his mouth opens on a breath, ready to scream. 

Unfortunately for him, even a slower, swaying Venom is a power to be reckoned with. 

Much like actual beef, the Byk’s life ends as dinner. 

Venom stalks to the door, intent on finding the other two.

Which is not good. People will see Venom. They’re moving so slowly, a child could follow them. They’ll be captured, taken to some government lab, and the rest of their combined life will be spent as a science experiment. 

Eddie’s deeply opposed. But he’s also incredibly sleepy. As if out of a peaceful dream, he gets stuck on the idea that Venom shouldn’t pass the threshold lest he be seen. It’s a hopeless thought. Venom is absolutely dead set on eating the Russians. There’s no way to stop him.

Except...Venom freezes. 

Not of his own volition.

Not because he wants to listen to Eddie.

But because he can’t move. 

Like every time ever that he pinned Eddie to a wall or froze him midstep, in this moment, Eddie is the one who holds Venom suspended. 

Startled, his next thought is for his body back. The coast is clear and Eddie has a liver that needs help processing alcohol and perhaps Anne to call for advice. Should he go to the police? Is there anything the cops can do to help him? 

Effortlessly, Venom is absorbed back beneath his skin, furious and raging all the way. 

**How did you do that?!**

“‘S my b’dy,” he murmurs. 

**It’s** **_ours_ ** **. And we have prey to kill.**

“Lat’r,” Eddie says, fumbling for his phone. He nearly drops it when it buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Anne. “Annieee!” he says into the receiver. Or actually the speaker since he’s holding it upside down. 

“Eddie?! Are you alright? Where are you right now?”

“Hotel?” 

“A...hotel? So, you’re safe? You didn’t wait to see if they could save any part of your building?”

“My build’g?” 

“Yes...the fire?” she prompts. 

**Fire?!**

Eddie can almost feel Venom curl up inside him, the physical equivalent of a whimper. 

**We are not whimpering!**

When he just hums for a few long seconds, Anne asks,”Eddie, are you drunk?!”  

“It w’s the Russssian,” he blames. And as he says it, in his head he sees molotov cocktails. Of all days for their to be a fire...yeah, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s related to the interview. Maybe even the phone call.

**Told you this was a bad idea.**

“Yeah, s’rry bu-ddy,” Eddie murmurs, but fuck the apartment. He’s more worried about what Todorov will do when he realizes that Eddie’s still alive. 

Todorov...Eddie doubts that’s his real name.  _ Call me Semyon. _ He hadn’t been the man he talked to on the phone. Fuck, what did he get them into?

**Shhhhh...** Venom’s ripples over his back and arms, covering him with warmth, massaging at his rising fear.  **We will fix it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for everyone who left comments! They were a huge part of why I spent most of today writing. ^_^ Means a lot! 
> 
> Also, this oddity: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdYGQ7B0Vew

It’s so much worse than Eddie ever thought it’d be. 

 

First off, he’s homeless, but at least that’s by choice. 

His building is now a burnt out shell and he’s indirectly responsible for the death of Ms. Lorraine’s cat. Dan, of course, being the ridiculously kind-hearted and empathetic human being that he is, convinces Anne to extend an invitation for Eddie to live with them until he can find his own place. 

Eddie immediately rejects the offer. It’s too dangerous for him to be in one place for very long, let alone bunking with friends. Trouble would be crossing their threshold right behind him. 

Because, indeed, the Russians have been dogging his footsteps. 

There’s  _ so _ many of them. 

They’re practically tripping over Russians, finding them around what seems like every corner of San Francisco. And every single one of them seems to know about Venom and, more importantly, his weaknesses. Every single one of them is packing - either flamethrowers or recordings of ultrasonic noises or molotov cocktails or dog whistles or even just Spirytus and cigarette lighters. 

Point being that it’s Every. Single. One.

**How do they know, Eddie?** Venom asks, voice rough with exhaustion. 

They’ve been running for six weeks straight. 

A few times, they’ve tried to fight and the results have been disastrous. 

Thrice, they’ve tried sneaking up on a lone mafioso and each time it was either that the guy managed to press some button on his jacket or he wasn’t actually alone or he’d gotten out a strangled cry before Venom dispatched him. 

Then, all of a sudden, from every direction, there would be a flood of Russkies, all converging on their location. Without compunction, they’d blast ultrasonic noise from loudspeakers, throwing grenades or pelting them with balls of flame.

And Venom can’t eat a single one of the fuckers because they carry explosives in their pockets. Without any hesitation, these low-level Russian mobsters are prepared to immolate themselves if it means destroying Venom. 

The one time they made the mistake of consuming one of these guys, they’d nearly been burned from the inside out. It had taken every ounce of Venom’s power to rapid-heal them and the result had been not far off from the aftermath of Riot - so, internal quiet and solitude for a whole fortnight wherein Eddie felt like only half a person. Depressed and listless and so fucking hungry.

They’re still so fucking hungry. 

In fact, they seem to be starving to death. Eddie’s ribs are showing and he’s losing muscle mass as his own body cannibalizes itself. 

Venom is in worse shape, his form small and flickering, hardly able to manifest over Eddie’s skin for more than it takes to escape the men on their tail. And, oddly enough, he’s refusing to consume even the parts of Eddie that aren’t necessary, like his appendix or one of his kidneys. 

Their situation is dire. 

Eddie’s run out of cash and any time he uses a credit card, the Russians appear within minutes. He’s tried a few times to get through a transaction at a convenience store or an ATM to no avail. It’s like they’ve got security cameras bugged and an alert out on all his credit cards.

**How do they always know?**

Resting his head against the window ledge of some random apartment that just happens to have a fire escape for them to crash on, he gives himself a moment to think about it. 

“Maybe...the Life Foundation? There’s probably footage of everything that went down at the Lab. The explosion, their symbiote experiments, my involvement...Either someone provided them with the information, or they found a way to get it?” he proposes. 

**How do we get ahead of them, Eddie?**

“Dunno, buddy,” he admits, struggling to see a way out. “Everywhere we go, they’re always right behind us.” 

**Then, let’s leave. Go somewhere to rest.**

Suddenly wide awake, Eddie blinks up at the bits of smog-greased night sky he can see through the mesh of the fire escape. “You want to run away?”

**Not running away. Just taking a break.**

It’s such an un-Venom-like thing to propose that Eddie’s momentarily blindsided. Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you okay, V? You sound kind of…” 

Words like sickly, frail, debilitated, and weak come to mind, but Eddie doesn’t dare say any of those out loud. 

“...drained,” he decides. “Like your batteries need recharging.” 

**Hungry** , Venom reminds him half-heartedly, nowhere near as insistent as he had been when all this began. He stopped mentioning it once Eddie started offering him his own body parts. 

Wracking his brain for a solution, Eddie tries to think of places he can reach on foot that don’t have cameras. “The farmer’s market?” 

There’s a sigh inside him.  **Tomatoes, carrots, lettuce...boring foods. Would take a truckload of people to satisfy our hunger and the best we can do is rabbit food.**

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Eddie honestly can’t see a way out. 

**Let’s leave, Eddie. Hitchhike to someplace without cameras** . 

He turns over the possibility in his head. Pictures getting into the car with some sweet-hearted Granny, traveling South, ending up in some small town. 

But then what? 

They’ll need money for shelter and food. A job. Renting requires references and credit checks, which might tip off the Russians again. He could live in an abandoned shelter, feeding off scraps and the occasional drifter with a dark past, if that’s even a thing. And forever there’d be the threat of the Russian mafia hanging over their head. 

He could try other countries, lawless places that don’t have bureaucracies, on other continents. But where? 

The Russian mafia is a worldwide organization, with branches on every continent. They can always spare a few soldiers to hunt for Eddie, no matter how long it takes. 

That is, if they even need to. Everyone these days has a phone. Social media sites work across countries and continents. All it would take was one inopportune photo of Eddie, somewhere in the background on a geotagged photo and he’d be found. Facial recognition AI’s could monitor on every photo-sharing site. 

Facebook, Google, Instagram, Twitter, WeChat. 

There’s no escape. 

He’s fucked. 

Completely dead. 

Cut off from resources, with absolutely no chance of hiding in a tech-enabled world. His stupid fucking ambition cost them their lives. If he was alone in this, he wouldn’t have made it out of the hotel room. The only thing prolonging their survival is Venom, who cautioned him that this story was a bad idea. 

If Venom had goaded him into this, if he’d been overconfident and supportive of the interview, then at least it would feel like they’d gotten into this mess together. 

But they  _ didn’t _ earn these consequences together. 

It was Eddie who drove them to this - hiding out on a fire escape, insides collapsing out of hunger. 

And to all this going on inside his head, Venom doesn’t react. 

Looking inwards, Eddie gets the sense that the symbiote is asleep. Either that, or unconscious from starvation. 

Fuck, the situation’s hopeless. And Venom doesn’t deserve to be here, suffering the consequences right alongside Eddie. He deserves to be somewhere else. 

Somewhere safe.

With  _ someone _ safe. 

More responsible. Better at taking care of themselves. Someone stronger, who others look up to. Someone who not a single person could look at and think - loser. 

There are people like that, out in the world, but a lot of them are actors, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, professional sportsmen...and this is California. And Eddie still has his stupid press badge - the golden ticket into events where people like that are teeming. 

A plan starts to unfurl in his mind. 

He pictures a specific person - someone he considers a kind of hero - and the place to find him. A place he can get access to with some fast talking. It’s...doable. 

Doable in a way that nothing else has seemed to be in the past couple of weeks. It feels like...a plan. A way to save Venom from sharing in his fate. Eddie recognizes that it’s too late for his own salvation. Can’t run, can’t hide. But Venom can swap hosts. 

Will he be willing to, though? 

If he won’t even eat the organs Eddie doesn’t need to stave off the hunger, will he really be willing to give Eddie up? 

Then again, he still remembers that moment in the hotel room, when he’d stopped Venom cold with just a thought. Given their connection, can he control Venom? Can he force the symbiote out of his body and into someone else? 

Stretching out an arm, Eddie tries to picture Venom’s tentacles as if they were another part of his body. Like lifting a finger, all it takes is the desire to see Venom’s dark sinews stretching over his forearm to make them appear. 

Even with Venom soundly asleep, he can surface the symbiote as if the alien skin were a natural part of himself. So yes, apparently he  _ can _ do it. 

But, holy fuck, he really doesn’t want to. 

His heart starts to pick up its pace, drumming at the speed of his panicked thoughts. To never see Venom again, to never hear that deep voice in his head, babbling about the strangeness of humanity, commenting on the frailness of Eddie’s species, snarking at his choices of food and movies, teasing him, and...to never feel those alien bands of warmth and comfort surrounding him again…

Godammit.

Venom shifts beneath his skin, driven awake by Eddie’s panic. His tongue (Eddie’s pretty sure) flickers along his insides, tasting his mood. 

**This distress...What’s wrong, Eddie?**

“N-nothing’s wrong. Just frustrated, b-buddy.”

Venom may not  be human, but he’s starting to get people, and he’s something of an expert on Eddie. There’s no way to bullshit him on this. But, in that same vein, he’s aware that there are moments where Eddie doesn’t want to be called on his bullshit, and this is one of them. 

Rumbling and vibrating in Eddie’s chest unhappily, Venom doesn’t force him to answer. Instead, he pools the little energy he can spare and cloaks Eddie in his skin, squeezing tight. It feels like a hug. 

**Go to sleep, Eddie. Maybe our dreams will show us the way out.**

Chuckling wetly, Eddie carefully tucks his plan away in a corner of his mind and, instead of sleeping, basks in the warmth of Venom’s embrace, conscious of the fact that it might be the last time. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripped asunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit. "Ripped Asunder" would've probably been a better title. Sigh....
> 
> Also, *this* is Eddie's lullaby: https://youtu.be/AyDi8kI9gp0?t=106

 

**This is a bad idea.**

“Yeah, you’ve said.” Eddie discreetly checks out the patrons standing in line for tickets, AT&T Park’s entrance baking in the fall sun’s glow. 

Nervous, Venom’s mouth spasmes over Eddie’s head like no real hoodie would, threatening to close around him.  **There are cameras everywhere! You said cameras weren’t safe.**

“Come on, V, just let me have this,” Eddie whispers, cajolingly. “It’s one last live game before I have to give them up forever. And, of all games, it’s Yankees versus Giants. It’s one of the biggest rivalries in US sports. It’s going to be epic! See, the Giants used to be a New York team, until they got moved to San Fran where - “

Probably to shut him up, Venom licks the back of his neck from inside the “hood”.  **Humans are too attached to watching others play games of strength. We should try playing sometime instead of watching.**

Eddie hums, actively suppressing thoughts of how Venom will soon be playing those games.  _ If _ everything goes to plan. And, well, his plan is kind of shit. There’s a lot that can go wrong. 

He’s not entirely sure how he’s going to get Luke Crawford to swallow Venom or if Venom can even be swallowed. How big is he exactly? 

And, Venom’s right. This is stupidly fucking dangerous, what with crowd-panning cameras and a shit ton of people with their selfie sticks…Godammit. Eddie bites down on a stream of curses as he finds himself in front of the ticket booth with only credit cards in his wallet. He’s really not going to make it out of this, huh? 

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but Eddie’s committed. He hands over his card and gets a ticket in exchange. 

Too late to turn back. 

**We can use the credit card now?** Venom asks, suspicious. 

“Yeah, buddy. Just for today, we can buy whatever we want.” He stops at the nearest hot dog vendor. “How many you want?” 

The vendor gestures at Eddie. “No, man, how many do  _ you _ want?” 

**ALL OF THEM.**

Eddie snorts. “Could’ve guessed. Can I have as many as you can stack onto your family-sized tray?” 

The vendor blinks at him. It takes some persuasion to get him to start stacking. “That’ll be $120,” he says, handing over a pyramid of 40 hot dogs. 

**_MORE._ **

Eddie hands over his credit card and tells the vendor, “Can you get me another one of these?”

“A hot dog?” The man gapes at him.

“No, another 40.” 

His jaw drops. “S-seriously?”

Eddie’s too busy shoving three at a time into his mouth to respond. 

On his third box, Eddie finally walks away from the speechless hot dog vendor to go find his seat. “Feeling better, buddy?” he asks, settling into a row not too far from the Home Team’s dugout. 

**Still hungry. Can we get more to eat?**

“Sure, real soon, V. Just let me watch the game for a bit and we’ll go get you some more food.” 

A shiver goes through them both.

Eddie can feel Venom’s saliva wetting the tips of his hair and dripping down his neck. Normally, he’d complain, but...not today. 

Today, it feels like the best feeling in the world. Fuck, he’s going to miss it. 

Then again, it’s not like he’ll have to miss it for long. It’ll be a miracle if he makes it out of this stadium alive. And if he does, it’ll only be a matter of time - hours, not days or weeks or years. 

_ Hours _ .

**You said the Russians would find us if we used the credit card** , Venom says suddenly, refocusing from the distraction of food.

“Uh,  _ yeah _ ...that’s still true. But, they aren’t going to rain down a firestorm on us in a crowd like this. It would attract the police. We’re safe with all these people around.”

**What about noise?** Venom asks, eyeing the huge speakers hung up at odd intervals throughout the stadium. 

“That would hurt you, not me. I’m their target,” Eddie points out. “They only need you out of the way so that I won’t be bulletproof, but they can’t shoot me in the crowd either. Not without causing a stampede of panicked fans. It’s a lot more likely that they’ll try to capture m- us as we’re leaving.” 

**We won’t let them capture us.**

“Do you have the strength for that?” Eddie asks, carefully, trying to get a sense of how much juice is in Venom’s batteries. Enough to be monitoring Eddie’s thoughts? Enough to fight him when “the time” comes? 

**We will find the strength. We’d find it easier if we were given more to eat** , Venom says, pointedly.

Before the game starts, Eddie ducks back out to grab a huge bucket of peanuts, and then they settle in to watch the innings. 

Beneath his skin, Venom is restless. 

Within the first half-hour, once he’s done insulting the revered game of baseball, Venom moves on to asking about every aspect of the stadium and discussing possible exit strategies, some of which may even be useful to Eddie when the time comes.

Finally, he realizes that Eddie won’t be getting him more snacks and starts trying different tactics to convince Eddie to ditch the game.

When he fails to get a reaction, he resorts to asking outright.

**Can we leave yet? This game is slow. How can humans enjoy games like this? There is no blood. No spilled guts. No exposed viscera. Boring.**

The game is approaching the seventh-inning stretch. Biting his lip, Eddie knows he needs to lull Venom to sleep. Fuck, but he just wants to keep talking. Trading barbs, bickering, teasing, arguing…just, anything. 

One more minute. 

Just one more minute.

“Gotta say, buddy, I didn’t know how lonely being human was until I met you. I’m empty without you. Desolate,” Eddie says, throat squeezing tight around the panicked gasps that want to come out. Fuck, he’s going to be alone again. He just hopes Venom will understand how much he meant to him.

**Love you too, loser** , Venom snorts.  **You will never be alone again.**

Eddie hums, because it’s the only sound he can make right now. 

It takes a long pause for him to be able to say, slowly, “Hey, V, if you’re bored, why don’t you take a nap? Maybe it’ll help you recharge for when it comes time to get out of here?”

He feels Venom’s agreement as the symbiote snuggles tighter around him, still pretending to be a hoodie. 

It takes tremendous effort, but Eddie manages to clear his head of all thoughts. Thinks of peaceful, rhythmic things, like grandfather clocks, ocean waves, beach-side hammocks rocking back and forth. Takes all that peace and slowly shifts it towards Venom. 

In this moment, he can feel Venom as part of himself. Can access the feeling of embracing his own body like a second skin, the alien satisfaction of being attached around someone beloved, someone to be protected at all costs. 

What almost startles Eddie from his peace-infusion is the bottomless sinkhole of feelings in Venom - most of them centered around Eddie. 

In a human, this would be  _ beyond _ obsession.

There’s a rapturous need to experience Eddie’s reactions, hear his opinions, bask in their camaraderie. In a way, Eddie’s still being consumed, being tasted and savored. This time, it’s  _ him _ though, not his organs. And it’s a revelation that part of Venom’s never-ending, ever-consuming, all-encompassing hunger is for every detail and insight that gets him closer to a perfect understanding of all that Eddie is, and everything  _ they _ are, together.

But Venom’s a symbiote. 

Maybe this sinkhole would spring up for any host?

And it very clearly illustrates how far from ok V is. 

If he wasn’t still recovering from constant assaults of noise and fire, if he weren’t being starved, there wouldn’t be a chance in hell of Eddie seeing his plan come to fruition.

His resolve bolsters at the evidence of how far they’ve fallen and he starts to hum on the inside, his body vibrating with the cadence and rhythm of a lullaby. 

Except that he doesn’t know any lullabies. There’s one about cradles in trees, but he can’t think of the melody. 

He ends up humming along to the stupidest and most inappropriate trance song, and even singing under his breath, “Take me to Russia, wanna drive a tank, drink and have some fun, until we see the dawn. Take me to Russia, Soviet K.G.B., Vodka’s almost free, hard bass’s motherland. Take me to Russia, Gangsta, K.G.B., Russian bear’s gonna set you free…” 

Despite the heavy dose of exhaustion stealing through the symbiote, Venom starts shaking with laughter.  **Idiot** , he mutters, sharing in Eddie’s dark amusement. 

“Go to sleep, you damn parasite. Wanna enjoy the game without you shitting all over it,” Eddie says, softly. He keeps humming, though, until his awareness of Venom fades around the edges the way it does in sleep. 

He keeps humming as he makes his way, calmly down the bleachers towards the double doors marked Employees Only. 

He keeps humming as he picks the lock with makeshift tools and finds his way into the service hall that connects to the locker rooms on one end and the dugout on the other. 

He keeps humming as he shows his press badge to security and looks at them like they’re crazy when they don’t want to let him through. 

Borrowing some of Venom’s confidence, he squares his shoulders and, in his coldest voice, says, “This really can’t wait. I have to speak with Luke Crawford before it’s too late. I can’t tell you more than that.” 

If it weren’t the seventh-inning stretch, his chances would be dismal.

But the break’s not over, Eddie’s not foaming at the mouth, and he sounds serious. 

The two security guards share a look and it’s as if he can hear them thinking,  _ What’s the worst that can happen? _ If he’s a psycho or Crawford doesn’t want to talk to him, they can just escort him back to the bleachers. 

At the last second, one of them remembers they should probably check him for firearms. They pat him down as he starts to hum again and clear him without realizing that his hoodie has teeth. That they’re letting in something so much greater than any weapon. 

With the way to the dugout clear and a security guard at his shoulder escorting him, Eddie turns his focus inwards. Softly, so softly, he imagines himself as Venom. Feels himself connect to V the way he had in the hotel room.

In the end, it’s easier than he thought. 

Kind of like forcing yourself to throw up. 

Think hard enough about the chunks traveling up your throat, the acid burn in your mouth, the thing that made you feel like you had to throw up in the first place - be it food, alcohol, sickness - sway your head a bit to make yourself dizzy, and voila. Out comes the undigested slop of your stomach. 

So, Eddie focuses on tearing pain, silences unbroken by anything other than his own uninspired imagination, on emptiness. He focuses on Venom as if he were another limb he could control. Easy as lifting a finger. 

He imagines Venom absorbing into his skin and traveling down into the palm of his hand, just below the surface, and then he sticks that hand out for Luke Crawford to take. 

Out of politeness, the big tow-headed man takes off his mitt and accepts the offered palm. Allows Eddie to clamp their hands together in an endless, hard-squeezed handshake, tolerating what he thinks is a show of dominance. 

Eddie’s not here to have his dick measured. 

Each second is crucial. 

Everything in him is railing against this forced separation and Venom, for all that he’s still asleep, seems equally disturbed, twisting and grumbling as Eddie controls the symbiote’s absorption into Luke. 

Finally fed up, Luke tries to dislodge him, “What do you want, man? He said this was important.” The baseball player’s eyes look over Eddie’s shoulder to stare at the security guard accusingly.

Security shrugs. 

“It is important,” Eddie pants, holding tighter.  _ Just a little bit more.  _

Just.

One.

More.

Second.

As Luke begins pulling away in earnest, squeezing Eddie’s wrist to get him to let go, the last of Venom slips away. 

It’s jarring and infused with the feeling of  _ Unnatural _ . Like what he imagines it would be like to cut off a limb when your body’s too dosed with anesthetic to feel it. Like the  _ dumbest _ , most costly mistake. 

The need to get away rises in Eddie as he feels the shocked stares of the security guard and the ball-players. 

The Coach is marching towards them from the other end of the dugout, a scary look on his face.

“Wh-what?” Luke asks, unfocused gaze drifting between Eddie and the security guard.

Like any sane, normal person, Eddie says to Luke, “The Russians are coming,” and takes off.

Not that Luke is paying attention. 

The last Eddie sees over his shoulder as he power-walks away, is Luke with a hand to his head, looking dazed. Blinking slowly. Mouth opening and closing. And, within his startled expression, Eddie can almost make out flashes of black, like an image surfacing through the static of an old TV.

Fuck, he needs to get out of here.

As soon as he’s past security and back in the service tunnel, he’s running, full tilt, everything in him screaming GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT.

GET OUT before you change your mind.

GET OUT before the Russians catch you.

GET OUT before Venom finishes waking up. 

He catches stares as he goes. People raise iPhones to document his progress as he rushes past rows and rows of onlookers. His heart is rabbiting in his chest as he finds his way back to the bleachers and starts making his way towards the exit.

The seventh-inning stretch comes to an end, the ball-players retaking their positions in the field as Eddie arrives on the second tier. 

He’s almost there. 

He’s  _ also _ made a spectacle of himself. 

Warily, he slows down on the second tier, wondering if Russian mobsters wear suits to baseball games, or if he should be on the lookout for shiny, Adidas tracksuits. 

Which is when Venom, very obviously, wakes up. 

“ **EDDIE!** ”

Poor Luke Crawford stalks across the baseball diamond, face twisted up in rage. And, predictably, since a famous pro-ball player is interrupting one of the biggest games of the year, all eyes and cameras turn towards him, the jumbotron zooming in for a closeup. 

A guy pops up from his seat like a gopher, scanning the rows of heads along the tier. The man’s in a matte black, Adidas tracksuit. 

“ **I WILL FIND YOU EDDIE!** ” Luke roars, voice demonic.

On the jumbotron, it’s clear that his entire 6’6” frame is shaking with fury. It’s probably taking every ounce of Venom’s self-control to keep from revealing himself.

It’s a small blessing that at least he took Eddie’s warnings about lab experiments to heart.

Too bad that self-control doesn’t extend to acting like a reasonable human being for the sake of his current host’s career. Without hesitation, he starts climbing the chain link fence behind home plate, trying to get a better vantage point. 

“ **AND WHEN I DO, I WILL WIND MYSELF INTO EVERY CREVICE OF YOUR BEING! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER THOUGHT THAT I DON’T KNOW ABOUT!** ” 

Eddie winces, ducking closer to the ground. Oh God, that’s so much more than pissed. That’s not a promise, it’s a vow. 

People in the first tier crowd start screaming as Venom makes the jump from the fence into the bleachers. 

The announcers are having a field day, shouting into microphones, no idea that they’re only increasing Venom’s agitation.

As V stalks through the aisles and hops from chair-back to chair-back with perfect balance, his head is tilted like he’s sniffing the air, trying to catch Eddie’s scent and listening for a heartbeat in a sea of them. Then, suddenly, his control turns jerky, limbs flailing as if he only has partial control over them. The only redeemable part of this shit show is that V’s still wearing Luke Crawford as he starts to zombie-walk in the opposite direction of Eddie.

A few more tracksuit gophers pop up, hands suspiciously in their pockets, tracking the “crazed” pro ball-player. 

Eddie hears one of them shout something in Russian and a few of the gophers abandon their strategic surveillance posts around a few of the stadium entrances in favor of tracking Luke Crawford across the stadium, ever closer to the ocean. 

He almost laughs at the absurdity. 

Even now, Venom’s unknowingly saving his life.

With all the stealth he can manage given his recent history of sleepless nights and the terrabad feeling of, at least, two dinners-worth of hot dogs and peanuts sitting undigested in his stomach where Venom’s metabolism hadn’t yet had the chance to burn through them, Eddie makes it past the entrance and is about to head out to the parking lot, when he hears an echo from inside, amplified across hundreds of different microphones. 

“ **DON’T RUN FROM ME, EDDIE! Please…** ” 

That plaintive request nearly undoes him. He’s never heard that tone before. Not from Venom. Not from anyone. No one’s ever wanted him that much. No one’s ever said his name like it was salvation. 

Eddie bites into his lip until it bleeds and wipes his eye sockets against his shoulders, letting his shirt soak up his emotions. 

He walks faster. Memories begotten in his misspent youth serve him well as he identifies an old enough car to pickpocket. Then, with shaking, desperate hands, he unlocks the door, hotwires the vehicle, and drives away. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunt begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh...so, this was supposed to be a lot funnier than I think it turned out.  
> Also, this was supposed to have more scenes, but less content per scene. Not as far along in this story as I thought I'd be at this chapter.  
> C'est la vie. 
> 
> Also, I'm still trying to figure out what to use these accounts for, but I can be found at  
> @jedtree on Twitter  
> https://jedtree.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORTIVE AND AMAZING COMMENTS!!!! (Particularly the really creative/specific ones) They help tremendously in both motivating continued updates, sticking to timelines, and provide various granules of inspiration d(^_^)b

 

Eddie doesn’t have any place to go, so he drives till he runs out of gas. Given that he started with less than a quarter tank, he doesn’t get far.

No money, no food, no ride, no Ven - he stops, quaking in the middle of the street. This is so much worse than the first time.

Back then, the return to a silent existence, where he didn’t have the awareness of a second entity living under his skin, had left him aching, but Venom had still been there, recovering without his knowledge just beneath the surface.

That experience should’ve been worse than this.

After all, he’d been convinced Venom was _dead_.

When he’d been making peace with his plans to help Venom survive him, it hadn’t crossed his mind to consider just how close they’d gotten since Riot.

Nor had he known just how big a difference it would be to no longer have _any_ trace of Venom inside him.

Not that he’d ever take this choice back, but maybe he’d have been more prepared to deal with the fallout. In particular, now that the adrenaline rush of making his escape has dissipated, Eddie’s left...craving.

Yeah, craving is a good word for it.

He’s never been an addict, but this feels like addiction. There’s sweat on his brow, an intense feeling of anxiety and need crawling on hands and knees through his system, begging to be embraced by otherworldly warmth, ensconced in a layer of dark protection. Tremors start in his heaving stomach and spread outwards along his extremities. Bits of the world go fuzzy, then sharp.

Out of desperation for it all to stop, Eddie stumbles down an alley and collapses against the rusty service entrance of a greying butcher shop. Then bursts out laughing. The air’s suffused with the stale smell of raw meat. It reminds him of Venom. The sound of his ill amusement seems to echo in the tight space of the alley, but then it fades away.

Only silence remains.

  
  


Gnashing **_HIS_ ** teeth - not the teeth of the Host, because the Host can go fuck himself - Venom launches himself onto the roof of a cable car, senses still straining for any trace of Eddie, desperately trying to catch the slightest hint of musk, the barest whisper of sound, but even with his heightened senses, it’s hopeless.

**This city is terrible.**

**_Useless_ ** **.**

**MORONIC.**

**How do humans live in this confusion?**

The street lights are near blinding, bright spots intermittently disrupting his perfect night vision, making it hard to see into the darker crevices of this infested brick and mortar landscape.

On the air, he smells festering wounds tightly bound in casts and bandages, termite-bitten lumber supporting moldy plaster walls, gasoline and bacon grease, fetid dumpsters filled as much with trash as with piss and excrement, all of it muddied by wafting perfumes and harsh alcohol vapors.

And for every sound wave, there’s ten layers above and below it. People muttering, people laughing, people throwing things and revving engines and smacking their lips. So many useless walking lunchboxes getting in his way.

Licking blunt, little teeth - smaller and wider than Eddie’s - with too thick a tongue, he pictures eating his way through the city, growing stronger with each crunchy head -

_Stop it, you monster! You’ve had enough!_ the Host screams inside him. _Get out of the street before you get me arrested, you fucking space scum!_

Chuckling darkly, Venom rubs the damp, blood-stained cloth of his uniform between two calloused fingers. **So many Russians, so little time.**

_No_ , the Host growls from within.

**_The_ ** **Host - not** **_his_ ** **.** **_Never_ ** **his.**

_Nor would I ever want to be, you psychopath! Seriously, what gives you the right to decide who lives and dies?_

**I give me the right. They deserve it. Also they were tasty without the bombs. I should thank you. Your face makes it easier to hunt them.**

_I DON’T WANT YOUR THANKS!_ the Host screeches with horror. Then there’s a pause as the Host seems to reconsider. _You can thank me by giving me my body back._

**Not until I find Eddie.**

_WHO THE FUCK IS...oh. Oh my god! That fucker from the game! He put you inside me! That piece of sh-_

**FINISH THAT SENTENCE AND I’LL RIP YOUR ARM OFF.**

_You wouldn’t._

**Try me** , Venom grins wide to himself.

_How can you defend the assho...uh, that guy? It’s his fault we’re in this mess._

**He is MINE to defend or to blame.** **_Not_ ** **yours. And he didn’t mean it.**

_This was no accident._

**No, not an accident. A sacrifice. We are stronger together, but the mafia men are like cockroaches. Suck one dry, find ten more behind you. And all of them come with fire and NOISE. WE WILL END THEM. WE WILL** **_CRUNCH_ ** **THEM. WE WILL** **_RIP OFF T_ ** **HEIR ARMS, EDDIE AND I!**

The Host recoils.

_O-ok, th-then how do we find th-this Eddie?_ the Host asks, meekly. _I-I think we should reunite you two. Quickly._

**Yes, the quicker the better. But how? I cannot track him in this petri dish of human stench.**

There’s quiet for a long moment.

Venom lies back on the roof of the cable car, trying to hold onto the anger. It gives him energy, feeds his restlessness. Not that he needs the feeding, what with ten juicy heads dissolving in the combined acids of Venom and the Host’s stomach.

_Does Eddie have any friends? People he’d turn to for help?_

Venom snorts. **He does not want help. Doesn’t think Anne and her agreeable doctor can help him. Has no close family. No friends. Just Venom.**

The Host chokes on what sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

Venom snarls, twisting nubby-nailed fingers in the floppy blonde hair that’s constantly being blown in his face. **Shut up or I’ll RIP IT OFF.** He tugs, sharp and punishing, until he feels the internal wince.

_P-please don’t. I-I’m sure your Eddie is very...nice._

**Yes, MY Eddie. And he is MORE than nice. He is** **_perfect_ ** **!**

With an uncomfortable cough, the Host moves on. _Who’s Anne?_

**The Ex.**

_Does he have a current girlfriend?_

Growling so low that the Host’s throat dries and the rumble turns painful, Venom stresses, **Eddie is MINE. No one else can have him.**

Shock makes the Host choke on his thoughts. It’s silent for a long minute again. _D-do you know his favorite places?_

**We have** **_been_ ** **to those places - the convenience store, the library, the tiny courtyard behind the liquor store, the apartment, the old movie theater down the road. He’s nowhere. And the Russians are watching.**

More silence.

Venom can almost feel the Host trying not to think anything judgemental.

_S-so, i-it sounds like Eddie probably went somewhere neither you nor the Russians would go looking for him. Did he give you any clues before he ditched you? Or is he predictable in some way? Maybe he’s got a pattern of thinking that could -_

Venom springs up, suddenly on the balls of his feet.

**_Anne_ ** **! Anne is good at predictions! She predicted where we would find Eddie when Riot had him taken out into the woods. She’s very smart. A lawyer.**

_Ok. And does Anne, the Ex, know about you?_

**Yes.**

_Huh. No wonder... W-wait! What are you dong?!_

For the first time since the stadium, every move is sticky. As if Venom is stuck in a spiderweb. His limbs flail and he trips along the straight, unbroken sidewalk.

**Going to visit Anne.**

_It’s too late to be knocking on people’s doors._

**Need to find Eddie!**

_And we will! Tomorrow! At a reasonable hour of the day!_

 

The only reason Venom agrees is because an angry Anne won’t help him. Still, as soon as dawn arrives, he’s on her front stoop.

_We should’ve at least waited till 7_ , the Host mutters as Venom pounds on the door.

There’s a crash from inside and then a human’s running towards the entrance. Frantic hands struggle with the doorknob on the other side and then the door opens to reveal...Dan. In a fluffy bathrobe. And slippers.

**Loser.**

Not so different from Eddie in all the stupid ways. And nothing like Eddie in all the ways that matter.

Dan gapes at him. “L-luke Crawford? What are you doing at my house? At,” he checks the cuckoo clock hanging above the coat hooks, “ _six_ in the morning?”

“ **You’re expression is stupid. Fix it or I can’t look at you.** ”

Dan’s jaw drops lower.

_Don’t use my body to diss people! I’ve got an image to uphold!_

“ **Where is Anne?** ” Venom asks, shouldering his way inside. Breathing deep, he can smell her on most surfaces, but none of those scents are fresh and flushed with the tang of copper. “ **She’s not here** ,” he growls, stalking through the lower level more out of irritation than any hope she’s on premises.

Shaking out of his stupor, Dan guesses, hesitantly, “Venom?”

“ **I need to find Eddie** ,” Venom says, stalking back to the foyer to tower over Dan. “ **Anne is good at predicting things. I need her to predict Eddie so that I can go home. So that** **_I_ ** **can become** **_WE_ ** **again**.”

Dan’s face is weird once more. An expression he’s heard Eddie call constipated.

“And is that what _Eddie_ wants? To become _We_ again?” Dan asks, carefully, hands slowly inching up to show he’s unarmed.

Pathetic, like Eddie. Good thing he has Anne to take care of him.

“ **Yes, but he is in trouble. Needs help. Wanted to keep me from helping, so he put me in** **_this_ ** **.** ” Pinching the meat on the Host’s shoulders, Venom rises on his toes, to better illustrate the _this_.

“Can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want your help,” Dan mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

_Seconded_ , the Host thinks.

Because he can’t hurt Dan - Eddie would get angry. Anne too. - Venom lays a passably gentle hand at the base of Dan’s neck. Where the Host’s fingers don’t meet at the back, Venom extends his hold so that there’s a necklace of pressure along Dan’s windpipe. “ **Where is Anne?** ”

“A-at work,” Dan stutters. “She has a very important case today.”

“ **More important than Eddie’s life?** ” Venom asks, squeezing just the littlest bit, because there’s only one acceptable answer to that question and Dan better get it right.

“N-no, o-of course not. Is his life in danger? Maybe I can help?” Dan sounds sincere.

Staring at Dan’s stupid slippers, Venom crushes the hand that isn’t on the other man’s neck into a fist.

There’s no time to waste, but humans don’t always think logically. Anne might decide she doesn’t care enough about Eddie to save him at the cost of her own safety. If he also threatens Dan and spoils her work, she’ll have even more reason not to help him.

Gnashing his teeth, Venom growls, “ **Then, until Anne comes home, you’re going to help me, yes Dan?** ”

“Uh, sure, Venom. I’m not on schedule today. Though, do you mind if I pop out to the butcher’s real quick? I wanted to buy some steak for dinner.”

“ **You have three minutes to dress. I will count** ,” Venom says, releasing him. “ **One, two, three…** ”

The Host disapproves of this. _You shouldn’t browbeat people who genuinely want to help you, dude._

**And you shouldn’t call me dude unless you’d prefer your feet with toes missing.**

  
  


When morning comes, Eddie uncurls and, oh god, his back. Mistakes were made last night, one of which was deciding to sleep in an alley. He feels the opposite of rested, bones creaking into place, as he finds his feet.

It’s too fucking early.

The barest tendrils of light are just now unfurling across the sky. Any normal day, he’d roll over and go back to bed, but the very prospect of snoozing a while longer in a cold, dank corner surrounded by the smell of meat and garbage is enough to revive him.

So, what should one do when awaiting execution?

Other than try not to get executed?

As he drags himself towards the street, Eddie decides (oh so strategically) that his best bet is to stay hidden. Easier said than done, though. It’s not like he can just disappear into the sewers and live off rat carcasses and filtered drain water.

Quick death by mob hit is still marginally preferable to drawn out death by rabies.

Leaning against the rough bricks of the butcher shop, Eddie constructs a priority list of unavoidable needs - water, shelter, food, in that order.

Eyeing his surroundings, Eddie considers and discards the possibilities for a water source around him rapid fire.

The butcher shop?

Owner would deny him. Especially since he’s not going to buy raw meat - that he’d have no means to cook - with his Russian dog whistle of a credit card.

The same logic could be applied to all the nearby businesses - florist, law office, phone repair store, stationary shop, candle and kiche seller.

The chapel on the corner?

Doesn’t  open till noon.

The residential apartments that sprawl some few blocks in every direction?

Would probably have an even bigger problem with a stranger knocking on their doors at bumfuck o’clock asking to use their bathrooms.

When a bike messenger whizzes past Eddie ten minutes later, he’s still standing there, wracking his brain trying to remember where the nearest restaurant or gas station is located.

Carrying a satchel strapped to his back, the messenger stops in front of the law office across the street and chains his Specialized Sirrus Comp to a lamppost before slipping into the building with a keycard.

Well, _there’s_ a possibility.

With the skillful nonchalance of an investigative reporter, Eddie approaches the bike like it’s his, universal lockpick already cupped in the palm of his hand.

The bike lock is cheap. More for show than for security.

Less than ten seconds and Eddie’s riding away on a thousand dollar bike, likely taking the kid’s employment opportunities in the glorious field of package delivery right along with him.

He doesn’t allow himself a spare second to focus on the monumental hole inside him or the symbiote that used to fill it.

  


On the way to the butcher’s, Venom haltingly explains everything that’s happened to him and Eddie over the internal yelling of the Host.

Dan nods periodically and tisks with sympathy, as if he doesn’t realize his own danger as someone “close” to Eddie. He tries to also offer advice, blathering on about the police and federal bureaus.

Venom loses all track of the conversation as they near the butcher shop, attention drawn away by the most delectable of scents.

Mindlessly, he’s lured straight past the shop’s front doors and around the nearest corner, into an alley. He nearly teleports from one end of the narrow passage to the other, startling the Host, as he finds the doorway where most of the scent is concentrated.

With a moan, Venom slides to his knees and licks along the doorframe with an inhuman tongue.

The Host gags. _Oh, god, don’t lick that! People piss in alleyways all the time. And there’s vermin and bacteria and -_

Dan echoes the disgusted sentiment, except that he goes into detail about all the diseases he could get in this kind of environment. “If you’re hungry, I can buy you some steak,” he says.

Venom gags. “ **Humans and their love of dead flesh - it’s revolting. How can you stand to eat prey without having felt its last gasps puff against your face? How can you enjoy chewing hunks of motionless, decaying body parts?** ”

“On second thought…” Dan looks nauseous. “I think it might be nice to have just the veg and potatoes. Lighter on the stomach and it’ll leave more room for wine.”

Venom could care less what the human will eat. The only important part is that they can search for Eddie now. With a last, slathering lick, Venom leaps to his feet and starts following the fairly recent scent trail.

**Fairly recent.**

**So, not the** **_most_ ** **recent.**

**AND IT DOESN’T LEAD ANYWHERE!**

Only across the street, before it disappears. “ **_NO_ ** ” Venom growls, low and guttural. “ **He was JUST HERE! His scent is fresh enough that it tastes** **_sad_ ** **. Eddie is** **_lonely_ ** **. AND I’M NOT THERE!** ”

Dan and the Host don’t know how to respond to the outburst.

Venom can feel the quake of his Host. Terror that he is trapped with Venom, and may remain trapped ever after.

Dan is not much better. His hands are sweaty enough that he rubs them on his pants and takes a step back, even though he is not even in the Host’s arm’s reach.

But if Venom can see him, he is in _Venom’s_ arm’s reach.

Like lightning, he expands his arms over the Host’s and catches Dan around the biceps, dragging him near enough to feel Dan’s puffs of breath against the Host’s skin. “ **Y** **ou are like Eddie, sometimes.** **_Maybe_ ** **you are enough like Eddie to predict him. Tell me, where does a loser go after buying dead flesh from a butcher of prey? Lead me to Eddie.** ”

_Not cool, man_ , the Host says, to prove that fear of Venom does not control him.

**Cool? Feel this fire. It cannot be cooled. Only Eddie can douse it.**

For the first time, Venom releases the dam of his feelings, flooding the Host’s side of the reservoir. Lets him feel just how much he burns at the thought of losing Eddie. Of being too late. His rage and time-bound despair are lashing ribbons of fire beating against deep wells of oily vengefulness.

The thought of holding cold, dead flesh that wears Eddie’s face is enough to ignite him from the inside. It cannot be allowed to happen.

Though Venom does not share the fire with Dan, he must see it because, swallowing hard, Dan says, “O-ok, we can try following my usual schedule.”

Partly because he has no choice.

Also, partly because he is sometimes a loser like Eddie and, in this moment, his eyes are kind as they look through the Host and into Venom.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terribly unfortunate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### THANKS AGAIN FOR ALL THE COMMENTS -- I CAN'T STRESS ENOUGH JUST HOW MOTIVATING THEY'VE BEEN!! 100% APPRECIATED! 
> 
> Also, since I've discovered the use case for social media, I'll be sharing links to things that've made me happy at the below locations. Feel free to reach out with ideas for further stories or just to keep in touch:
> 
> ####  @jedtree on Twitter  
> 
> 
> ####  https://jedtree.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> ###### Also, meant to have this done yesterday, but my week sucked in terms of sleep. Started a 14 hour hibernation at 7 o'clock.
> 
> ###### 

 

When Eddie recovered his lockpick from an old storage unit, he hadn’t expected it to come in handy so often.

It’s his saving grace as he screeches to a halt in the back parking lot of a little, family-owned gym. He’s so desperately thirsty that he scrabbles to pick the lock of the side entrance without a spare thought for who might be watching. 

The low hum of machines underscored by pop-leaning elevator music leads him deeper into the facility. The hallway he finds himself in seems a little tight, as if it wasn’t built to code. 

If returning to his old life weren’t a pipe dream, he’d spare a moment to code this into memory with a mnemonic device - could be a story here, what with the rise of corruption within government agencies - but there’s no point planning ahead by much more than a few hours into the future. 

When he reaches a fork, Eddie pauses, listening for the sound of running showers, tasting the air for signs of damp, until he realizes that his senses aren’t actually that sharp. And it’s not even his way of deconstructing his surroundings.

_ Eddie _ looks for postage and lettered signs first. Also, with his offhand knowledge of how buildings are designed, he knows the gym will likely be in the front, showers towards the back, so he should take the left-hand hallway rather than continuing straight.

_ Venom’s _ the one who uses his senses first, because why logically deduce something you can know with absolute certainty? 

It throws him off hard. 

All of a sudden, thirst is secondary to the clawing pain in his chest. With slow, deep breaths, he takes the left-hand hallway and tries not to let the dim lights overhead transport him into memories of evenings spent cozied up in V’s tendrils with a box of takeout and his laptop. It’s hard to believe there was a time that V’s constant snark and nitpicking - without a shred of consideration for whether Eddie was working, watching a show, reading, or doing some other task that really didn’t require commentary - had been disruptive.

Annoying. 

If only he could have it back. 

Christ, one stupid mistake!  _ One _ fucking story that he so eagerly wanted to write. It’s not fair. If he’d known the cost...

But plenty of lives have been undone by one mistake. 

Eddie’s just one more person to add to the count. 

A tick in the Universe’s record book. 

The only good news is that he was right in choosing the left hallway. There’s an empty three-rowed locker room on the other side of a fire door. 

Hurray for low bars. 

Stripping as he goes and letting clothes fall where they may, Eddie ducks into the first available shower stall, turns the water on full blast, and stands under the spray with his mouth open. The water’s so cold it’s like being pierced by dozens of tiny icicles, but he doesn’t care. He slakes his thirst by the mouthful until he can’t contain any more water in the confines of his body. Yet, though his stomach is distended, he still feels empty. 

Unsatisfied. 

Something in between thirst and hunger nags at him, but he’s quite certain it won’t go away with water or food. 

If he had a reasonable life-expectancy, would this feeling last? 

Would he be doomed to eternally crave Venom? 

Since it’s not a question that needs answering, given his situation, he finally jiggles the shower handle, searching for a warmer setting. 

At the very least, the soaking slide of warm water eases him. 

He basks in the feel of being wet, of grime washing away, of heat suffusing his skin. 

It’s too quiet, but at least the low drum of water pressure hitting tile interrupts the silence. He’s not being embraced, but if he closes his eyes, the glide of liquid could almost pass for a second skin. There’s need scraping at the edges of his every thought, but as the steam obscures his vision, his thoughts disappear with the lack of stimulus. 

It’s almost...peaceful. 

Eddie wonders, why wait for the Russians?

Why leave his fate in their hands? Why give them the power to terrorize him, to make him run and hide, only to end up on the same white slab at the coroner’s office? 

It can’t be too hard to find something sharp. 

If he were to raid the lockers, find a shaving kit or a swiss army knife, take ownership of the  _ When _ of his untimely death…

It’s not as if Venom’s here to talk him out of it. 

  
  
  


“ **You’re supposed to be leading me to Eddie. Not back to your house** ,” Venom seethes for the fourth time in as many minutes.

Dan patiently starts his little speech about good hygiene and the importance of hydration, as if maybe Venom hadn’t heard him the other three times. 

**Which he hadn’t.**

**Because it wasn’t about Eddie.**

**WHO THEY SHOULD BE LOOKING FOR.**

_ He’s right, you know. Gyms are full of bacteria. At the very least, you need a pair of rubber slippers to avoid catching foot fungus in the showers _ , the Host chimes in.

“ **Don’t shower at the gym** ,” Venom interrupts Dan’s spiel. “ **Shower at home after we find Eddie.** ” 

Dan makes a face. “It’s not good to leave a gym covered in sweat when it’s this cold outside. The drastic difference in temperature increases the likelihood of getting sick due to - “

Venom resists the temptation to shake Dan. “ **Spare me the details. Tell them to Eddie when we find him** .”

There’s no use debating the point since they’ve made it to Anne and Dan’s house. 

“I’ll just grab my gym bag and be right out.”

It doesn’t take him long, but every second grates on Venom. To have been so close in this huge city was miraculous. Meant to be. But Eddie had not been there any more. A part of Venom - a paranoid part that he inherited from Eddie - worries that it was his only chance. 

Bag hanging across his torso, Dan finally comes back out and begins power-walking down the street. 

Venom follows along easily, long, lazy strides well-matched against Dan’s quick pace. They get halfway down the street before Dan suddenly stops.

“Oh boy, I forgot my water bottle. Here,” he hands Venom his duffel bag. “Hold this for a second while I go get it.” 

“ **But there is water at the gym. Otherwise you couldn’t shower.** ” 

“Yeah, sure, there are fountains, but you never know how old the pipes are, which means there could be toxic levels of lead in the water. Too much lead can cause - ”

“ **I DON’T CARE** ,” Venom growls, shoving at Dan. “ **Get your bottle and shut up!** ” As soon as Dan sprints away, he throws the duffel against the wall. 

It drops to the ground, floppy and useless and obnoxiously purple. 

_ Why did you have to drag me into this mess? _ the Host asks, sighing at the sight of the limp bag. 

**I didn’t choose you. Would NEVER choose you. Eddie did.**

_ But why did he think you’d be happy with me? Since we’ve been...bunking together, you’ve said that you hate baseball, hate my floppy hair, hate how bulky I am. I mean, why didn’t he give you to Dan? He seems pretty patient. A good guy.  _

**Dan works with noisy machines and Anne wouldn’t want to be with Dan if he had me inside him. He picked you because you’re not a loser to Eddie. You’re strong and big and lots of people know you. Harder for the Russians to pick off.**

The Host groaned, as if realizing again that he could die with Venom. But then his mind shifts in a new direction. _ Wait, so he betrayed you. And you don’t really seem like the forgiving type. Why are you so obsessed with Eddie? Aren’t you afraid he’ll betray you again?  _

Venom listens to the overlapping thoughts, coming so quickly that they’re right on top of each other.  **We were on the run for too long without food. No food, need sleep. With food, don’t need sleep. This will not be allowed to happen again. No more Russians. No more betrayal.**

_ But, see, you could pick someone new, start fresh. Why does it have to be Eddie? _

Venom grits his teeth feeling, behind the thoughts being directed at him, the Host’s hopelessness. He doesn’t think they’re going to find Eddie and he wants his life back. Preferably in time for the next game. 

**No games until we find Eddie.**

_ Why Eddie?  _ the Host demands again. 

**I LOVE HIM** , Venom punctuates with a growl. 

_ Can’t you fall in love with someone else? It’d be easier _ , the Host proposes desperately.

**No.**

_ Because symbiotes only love once? _ The Host’s thoughts are mocking.

Venom scoffs. **My planet does not have love. We are self-replicating. No need for pairs. Only on this planet I am a symbiote. Hosts were food before Eddie. Eat their insides, then find another Host.**

_ ARE YOU EATING ME? _ the Host panics.

Venom grins meanly.  **Your pancreas is delicious.**

There’s a long silence as the sportsman lets himself feel his body, knowledgeable enough to know everything is where it belongs and in good condition. _ Liar. Still, if you like being in love, maybe could feel that way about someone else.  _

Poor human doesn’t understand, but Venom is feeling more patient talking about Eddie. He decides to explain. **You cannot control this body.**

_ Um, no. No I can’t. Not while you’re driving it. _

**_Eddie_ ** **can control his body. He has learned how to wrest it from me. Do you like that I can see your thoughts?**

_ Of course not. Wait, you can see my thoughts? Like, other than the ones I direct to you?  _

**Yes, in technicolor. But your thoughts were so boring that I stopped monitoring them. How many humans do you know who would like me seeing them, inside and out, always?**

_People like privacy. Most of my friends are famous, and one of the things they hate most is the lack of privacy. Of people staring and taking photos, no matter what your doing, giving you unsolicited opinions. But you just said you can stop monitoring thoughts. You don’t have to listen. And apparently, the person you’re inside won’t know you’re listening, which will give them the illusion of privacy._ _Still don’t see why it has to be Eddie._

**Eddie likes when I listen. He likes that I hear everything.**

The Host scoffs.  _ I don’t believe you.  _

**He doesn’t have to explain or ask for things. Needs something across the room? It’s in his hand the next moment. Wants a hug? Gets a hug. Doesn’t want to sleep alone at night? Gets embraced from behind.**

The Host is shocked. And second-handedly embarrassed.  _ Well, that’s all just physical benefits, but you also talk a lot. There’s never a moment of piece. I bet he doesn’t like that. At least, not all the time.  _

**He complains, but if I don’t interrupt him, he starts to drift. Worrying about work when he’s watching movies. When he should be working, his thoughts drift to reconnecting with New York friends who stopped liking him because of his stories. He gets upset reading a book on Saturday night while the people** **_in_ ** **the book are at a club on Saturday night. Even when other people are talking to him, he feels lonely. I make him feel that he’s never alone.**

Finally, Dan returns, bottle in hand. Also purple. 

Also in hand, he has a baseball hat, glasses, and a ball of fuzz on a string. “I brought you a disguise!” he says proudly. “Figured since there’s more people out on the street this time of morning, a disguise will keep you from being recognized as a pro baseball player.”

_ Oh, thank god. Put it on.  _

**Looks itchy.**

_ PUT IT ON! _

Because they’ve wasted enough time already, Venom puts on the cap, glasses, and fake beard without further argument. 

  
  
  


When they get to just outside the gym, Dan puts a hand out to stop Venom from crossing the street.

“ **What?** ” he growls, in between huge lungfuls of air, already trying to catch Eddie’s scent. 

“Those cars outside of the gym mean something bad’s happened.”

_ Ambulance, fire truck, cop car. Someone called 911 _ , the Host supplies.  _ Don’t think they’ll let us in.  _

“ **No point waiting outside if Eddie was never here** ,” Venom says, because he’s not blindly hopeful. Just because Dan led him to where Eddie was once, doesn’t mean it will happen again. May even mean it’s less likely to happen a second time. 

“Wait!” Dan tries to hold onto Venom’s arm, but can’t manage to keep his grip. 

Bypassing the crowd of people outside and ignoring the shouts that follow him in, Venom tears into the front lobby, unnatural tongue rolled out past the Host’s lips to better taste the air with sensory receptors. 

_ Holy shit.  _

A shared sense of disbelief pervades the body of Luke Crawford. 

On the air, Venom can taste Eddie’s scent.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this was an uncommonly fast update for me -- don't hate me if I get slower as time goes one. Someone asked me how many more chapters there are and my estimate is about 4 left? Based on bases I need to cover. 
> 
> Anyways, I'd post links of cool things I looked at today, but it seems like that's what other sites are for?   
> So, @jedtree and jedtree.tumblr.com 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Google maps is a godsend. Totally thought Venice Beach and the Santa Monica Pier were in San Francisco. (didn't know their names so had to search for "ferris wheel on beach") When I found out they weren't, went scrabbling for a location to end this story with. Weird to think how things change with time. Not just locations but plot points, minor and not minor. My notes amuse me. It all seems so simple in outline format. Then you get there and have to go...nope.

 

The scent of Eddie is strong. 

It comes from further in. 

“You can’t be in here,” a pot-bellied man says, approaching Venom. 

“ **Obviously I** **_can_ ** **. I am** **_already_ ** **here. And you will not get me back out again. Not until I get what I came for!** ” Venom bares the stupid, nubby non-threatening teeth of the Host, because humans scare easily. 

Doing something strange and out of the ordinary is enough to scare most humans. 

_ I hate you so much right now _ . A feeling rises up within the Host of wanting to check that the beard is firmly in place.

The fat man is growling something and shooing them away with both hands. 

Patience lost, Venom practically bowls him over, headed into a back-hallway, then around the second right corner, all the way to a push-bar door. 

**Yessss, this is the right place.** Venom freezes in the entranceway, momentarily overwhelmed by the clear scent of heated skin still trapped in the moist, damp room. He sucks in great heaving lungfuls, wanting to coat his mouth with the faint taste in the air.

**Faint, because Eddie is** **_not_ ** **here.**

Finding his way towards the showers, Venom identifies the stall where Eddie must have washed himself. There are some skin cells along the edges of the drain where Eddie must have scraped the bottoms of his feet and, trapped between tiles, is the natural oil of Eddie’s skin where he must have rested his hand.

_ DON’T YOU DARE LICK THIS FILTHY, DISGUSTING SHOWER _ , the Host shrieks, already imagining Venom bathing the stall in his saliva. 

But there are too many traces of other humans in this bacteria box for him to be tempted. In fact, it’s difficult to be tempted by anything in the wake of the fury rising in heated flush along his skin. 

**Eddie was here! THIS MORNING.**

Given how little of the morning has passed, they just missed him. Maybe by the length of time it took Dan to find his bottle and the disguise. 

_ It wasn’t Dan’s fault _ , the Host says, momentarily worried for Dan given the waves of fury he’s sensing in the thrum of his blood. 

**HE WAS HERE. THIS MORNING.**

**HE WAS HERE THIS MORNING!**

“ **_MY_ ** **EDDIE WAS STANDING IN THIS VERY SPOT!** ” Venom hisses, slamming his palm over the section of tile where he can sense Eddie most clearly and forming a fist over it, fingers digging into tile and plaster, until it caves under the pressure of his hand.

_ Damn, you’re... _ really _ strong.  _ The Host is impressed. And only getting more worried.  _ Um...maybe we should find Dan? He might know where Eddie went next, right? You called him a loser and birds of a feather flock together, yeah? So maybe his next guess will also lead us to Eddie?   _

Ignoring the frightened Host, Venom rips the alien-fist-sized section of wall right out and takes it with him, crossing the length of the locker room in three strides before careening down the hall and pelting right at the corner, dogging Eddie’s stale footsteps through the back of the building and out the service exit. 

The alarm that wails upon his passage through the door only serves to enrage him further. Screeching his displeasure, he throws a flying kick at the top of the door frame where a little red light is blinking. The light shatters and the sound dies right along with it. 

Without the distraction of the alarm, Venom catches Eddie’s scent again and mindlessly throws himself at a patch of recently disturbed dirt in the hedgerow that lines the little parking lot. 

_ He’s gone, see? Look, there are bike tracks _ , the Host says, trying to pull his head up to look at the surrounding earth, but Venom mentally bats him away, his own hands forming over the Host’s all the better to dig into the loose soil. 

Finally he unearths a pile of bunched material. 

The clothes Eddie had been wearing for over six weeks while they’d been on the run, most of that time without the benefit of regular showers or even access to water. 

_ He buried his clothes? Like honestly, what the fuck? Who does that? Why didn’t he just bike down the street and throw them in one of the dumpsters? Or a trash can inside the gym?  _

**Policemen and Russians have scent dogs. Eddie must have stolen something. Clothes and money? Weird to find clothes in a trashcan in the gym. They would know it was the thief’s** . Venom feels almost heady at how much of Eddie’s scent clings to the material. With a violent shake, he removes the loose dirt from the cloth and immediately puts it in his mouth, sucking at the material. 

_ God, why are you so disgusting _ , the Host bemoans, trying to regain at least the power over an arm to pull the crusty, sweated-through clothing out of his mouth. 

**Policemen and Russians can also look at cameras on the street** .  **Could watch him throw it out. Eddie’s an investigative reporter. He tries to be weird on purpose. Defy expectations** , Venom continues, the shirt still in his mouth as he recaptures the handful of wall rubble and clambers to his feet. 

Jogging around the corner of the building, Dan finds him like this a minute later. “Uh...hmm, do I want to ask? I think maybe it’s better if I don’t ask.” 

Inside him, the Host blazes with embarrassment.  _ Maybe you could do with defying some of our expectations of you _ , he mutters. 

Venom just shrugs.

“So, I talked to the owner. Apparently, someone broke in through the back, stole some stuff out of a few lockers, and then tripped a silent alarm on exit. The owner said he hadn’t noticed that it had been tripped until the police showed up, but reset it recently to be an audible alarm. I think I heard you trip it a moment ago?” Dan’s eyes find the broken mechanism above the door. 

“ **Eddie was here. Perhaps losers really do flock together. Or are magnetized to the same places. Here, smell!** ” Venom puts the shirt under Dan’s nose as proof. More to see the man recoil than anything else. He knows humans have weak noses.

But Venom feels shaky. Like he’ll come apart at the seams if he focuses too long on the crushing disappointment of once again being too late to find Eddie here. To see Dan pretend-sniff the saliva-slathered, sweat-stiffened shirt, nodding as he does so, makes Venom feel moderately better. 

“Wow, really? That’s amazingly lucky. Maybe I should try playing the lottery,” Dan jokes. “By the way, you’re banned for life. Sorry, Venom. Or, I guess, sorry  _ Luke _ . Although this probably isn’t your kind of gym, and you were wearing a disguise, so I suppose that was kind of an empty threat on the owner’s part. Wait, can Luke hear me? Is he inside you, kind of like Eddie? Or did you...do something to him?” 

_ I’M HERE! HELP ME! _

Venom feels Luke trying to regain function of his lips. Gleefully, he wrenches control away and smiles wide and toothy. “ **Don’t know. Can’t hear him like Eddie. Maybe because he is** **_weak_ ** **.** ” 

_ You are such an asshole!  _

**Be grateful I’m not eating you and SHUT UP** , Venom growls before disrobing himself of the Host’s clothes and replacing them with Eddie’s. It’s a tight fit and the jeans zipper and button don’t have enough material to close over the Host’s patterned boxers. The only thing keeping the too-short pants in place is the Host’s belt. As a final touch, he shoves the crushed bits of tile into his front pocket. 

_ No! _ the Host moans inside him.  _ Please don’t go walking around like this! At the very least, leave my pants on!  _

Turning to Dan, Venom gestures at himself. “ **Ok?** ”

For his part, Dan smiles weakly and just fixes the displaced beard. “You really miss him, huh? Wh-what’ll happen to you if we find him too late?”

“ **I will go to Russia. It will take as long as it takes. And then I will be done.** ” 

_ You’re not taking me with you _ , the Host warns. 

Dan doesn’t ask what it means to be done. He just nods firmly. “Guess we’d better find him then.” 

“ **Yes. This way** ,” Venom says, taking Dan by the bicep and leading them back to the street. 

Filming over the Host’s eyes with his own, he strains to see the micro-particles of dirt that bike treads pressed into the ground. The trail is a paltry thing, but he’s able to follow it for over a mile, traveling mostly along downward slopes across San Francisco’s hilly landscape. 

Eventually, though, the trail ends.

Venom passes the last speck of dirt in the series in the middle of a block and continues in the same direction. But there is no new speck of dirt to follow when they get to the end of the block.

“ **NO!** ” Venom throws his fists against the asphalt where the street divides into a crossroads. It cracks beneath the pressure, much like the shower had. Eddie’s tight shirt splits at the seams, the short sleeves hanging on by a few short threads. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Venom,” Dan soothes, massaging the space between his shoulder blades. “I think I know where Eddie went.”

Venom’s head snaps with superhuman speed. “ **Where?** ”

“If we continue up Stockton, we’ll end up right next to Pier 39,” he says, pointing. “There’s a fair today. Anne went to work early so that we could go there together in the evening, see the bay at night, drink wine and eat finger food on sticks. There should be a lot of people there, which could make evading Russians easier, and it probably smells like food in that direction. Maybe it attracted Eddie?” 

_ We’re hungry _ , the Host points out, as if Venom can’t feel the howling in his own stomach. Funny how he’s used to it now. The ache’s only a day old. Now that he knows what it felt like after a week, this level of hunger pain doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

Also,  **not we.** **_I_ ** **am hungry.** **_This body_ ** **feels hungry. Or,** **_you_ ** **are hungry. NOT** **_WE_ ** **.**

_ Geezus, sorry. Just get us something to eat, why don’cha? _

  
  
  


Eddie’s not sure why he feels hungry. The mountain of hot dogs he basically swallowed whole yesterday should’ve kept him full for a week. It’s not like he has Venom processing the food for him with his coal engine metabolism. 

In any case, he leaves his bike at a rack, hoping no one takes it for a job ride. (Although the inherent hypocrisy in that thought makes him cringe.) 

People don’t really travel around with huge quantities of paper cash anymore, so he only has a fifty dollar bill in his pocket. Probably Godrick Foster’s emergency cab fare. The other three wallets he’d tried had been empty.

It’s surprisingly difficult to choose something to eat at the various stalls.

Obviously, cash is his key limitation, but there’s also the fact that it’s been six weeks and counting since he had fresh, wet, leafy food. For the first time in probably his whole life, the food he wants to eat most is a salad. Something colorful, crunchy and moist, bursting with flavor and...that kind of reminds him jarringly of Venom’s descriptions of the people Eddie occasionally lets him eat. 

Used to occasionally let him eat. 

Used to.  

Not anymore because Venom is probably learning how to live with Luke Crawford right about now. 

Fuck. 

Biting his lip to keep the whine in, he focuses on the task at hand. 

Find fresh food. 

Actually, he’s not sure, but doesn’t a desire for fresh food mean he’s nutritionally deficient? Not that it matters. There’s so many phones here. People snapping selfies, vlogging, video-calling over skype...he should’ve considered this part. At the fair, he might be safe. There are cops in the crowd, both as patrons and on duty. But the fair will end, and Eddie will have to leave. 

He can already picture a car sidling up next to him with tinted black windows. A dude leaning out to tell him to get in the car, flashing his gun briefly. 

Do they really need to go through the hassle of driving him out to a location? Maybe it’ll be a drive-by. 

Incidentally, he does have a very sharp credit card in his pocket. One he’s been filing against surfaces ever since he stole it. Turns out Anne’s well-to-do neighborhood is pretty safe. Safe enough that people don’t wander around with weapons in their gym bags. 

Too bad he hadn’t realized the night before just how close he was to her and Dan’s place. He would’ve run the car on fumes to a location further away. Last thing he wants is to turn the Russian Mafia onto them. 

In any case, his only weapon is made of plastic and it’s still not sharp enough to more than shallowly cut his skin. 

Maybe he could jump in front of a bus? 

Cover his head in plastic bags? 

Jam his legs through the bike spokes and throw himself off the pier? Or do bikes float? 

Eddie’s not married to the idea of suicidally beating the Russians to the punch, but at least he’d stop worrying about everything. 

As the sun reaches its zenith, he ducks under an awning, visually scanning fried food vendors for signs of greenery. Hell, he’d even take a candy apple that he could scrape the carmel from.

The restaurants probably have fresh salads, but they’re more expensive. Especially in San Francisco. Still, he lets himself glance at the lunch menus written out on what could very well be the last surviving chalkboards in the city, only vaguely paying attention to his surroundings. 

Bad move for a man being stalked by Russians.  

Thankfully, his distraction doesn’t cost him anything as a torment of teenagers sidle up beside him, fanning themselves with leaflets. 

“Dude, can you believe this?” One of them exclaims, flashing a phone screen. “Luke Crawford’s gone mental! Someone recognized him crashing a crime scene wearing a janky beard and the typical hat and glasses. They waited inside the pizza parlor on the other side of the street to see if he’d come out. And  _ he did _ ! In an even more whacked out getup. How much you wanna bet this ends up on the news?”

“Oh, god, what are you doing, V?” Eddie mutters. But more worrying than Venom getting Luke Crawford 5150-ed into a psych ward is that he made it to the gym. Fuck, just how good are the symbiote’s senses? The absolute last thing that can be allowed to happen is that V finds him before the Russians do and returns them to the status quo.

The baseball game will have been for nothing. 

And Venom would once again be in danger.

The whole reason he never put separation explicitly on the table is because there are plenty of subjects on which Venom can’t be reasoned with. 

Separation is one of those subjects.

Well, fuck the fair. There’s food at the Dollar Store. 

Except, godammit. 

He can see Dan by the bike racks, trying to talk to a hulking figure that’s crouching on the ground, hugging the back wheel of the bike and...possibly making out with the seat? 

Heart in his throat, Eddie flattens himself against the all of the restaurant he’s standing in front of, and shimmies himself around the back of the building, out of sight. It feels a lot like something inside him is ripping, but at this point, he’d be relieved if that were true. Death by internal bleeding is preferable than taking Venom down with him. 

  
  
  
  
  


“ **Pier 39 is NOISY!** ” Venom snarls, tromping towards it despite his dissatisfaction. “ **It smells like EVERYthing.** ” Tendrils pulse beneath his skin, finally breaking the tenuous grasp of the sleeves to the shirt. “ **Won’t be able to sense Eddie here** ,” he tells Dan, gesturing an arm sharply at the scenery.

“First things first,” Dan says, pulling Venom along, past the parking lot and towards...the bike racks! 

Venom sprints towards them, already sniffing at the air for a hint of Eddie. There’s so much interference from the nearby fair that he has to press his nose into the crook of each bike seat, but for all the wailing of the Host, his efforts pay off.

One of the seats smells faintly of Eddie, and of soap and the scents of other humans, like the man whose clothes Eddie is wearing, or the person whose bike this is, but it’s strong enough that Venom extends his tongue and wraps it tightly around the rubber. 

_ Are all symbiote aliens as weird as you, or are you unique? _ the Host asks, sarcastically. 

**Eddie is mine, so I am unique because no one else has Eddie.**

There’s a scoff, but the Host doesn’t argue with him. 

They stay like that, suspended in their positions, until someone arrives to retrieve their bike from the rack. 

_ Hungry _ , the Host reminds him. 

**I WON’T FEED YOU UNTIL I FIND EDDIE. SO, SHUT UP.**

“Well, uh,” Dan nods to the lady who walks away with a blue Merida, “do you want to try looking for Eddie at the f-”

“ **NO** ,” Venom growls, holding tighter to the bike. “ **If he left this here, he will come back for it, yes?** ” 

Dan nods weakly. “Probably? I mean, I think so. Sounds...reasonable. Here, how about I go look for him, and you stay here? That way we can double our search strategies?”

“ **Yes, GO. Find Eddie.** ” 

Once he’s gone, Venom pats the seat, traces his fingers into the grooves, rubs along the rounded edges. “ **If I don’t find him, he’ll come back for me, won’t he?** ” he asks the world, quietly. 

The Host doesn’t answer. 

Neither does the world. 

Probably because only Eddie knows. And only Eddie can answer. 

  
  
  


As the sun starts to sink, Dan comes back shaking his head sadly. “No sign of him. I’m going to call Anne. It’s about the time she said she’d be home for dinner. I’ll ask her to come here instead. That way we can keep an eye out for Eddie while we eat. Are you...going to stay with the bike?”

Despondent, Venom nods.

“Ok, in that case, we’ll bring you back some food. Any preferences?”

When Venom doesn’t answer, the Host slowly, painstakingly manages to shake their head. 

“Great, then we’ll just grab a bunch of food. How much do professional-ball-players-taken-over-by-symbiotes eat, by the way?”

Venom can feel the Host trying to get an answer out. Just the tiniest sliver of sound, the slightest movement of lips. He fails. 

“ **A lot** ,” Venom mutters. “ **The Host will eat whatever you bring. There is no such thing as too much.** ”

“Huh.” Dan seems unbalanced by the response. Very carefully, he steps close to Venom, who watches him with an unblinking stare. Lightly, he rubs Venom’s shoulder. “Don’t give up now, Venom.”

Still without blinking, Venom watches Dan retract his hand, take a step back, and palm his phone. He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go call Anne. See you in a bit.” 

Dan hurries off.

_ Dude, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see he’s trying to help? Giving the guy that creepy-ass stare is not on bro.  _

As he continues to track the movements of the human fair-goers - unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar shapes and scents and voices, all of them here to partake of cheap amusements - Venom can’t be bothered to respond to the scolding. Whether he deserves it or not doesn’t matter. Whether he’s hungry or not doesn’t matter. Whether Dan helps him or not doesn’t matter.

Because tomorrow Dan will be at work. 

And Anne will be at work.

The Host wishes he could go to work. And maybe Venom will let him. He can get any Host. He doesn’t need Luke Crawford. 

The only thing that matters is that Eddie is alive. 

But what if he’s not? 

Because Venom was late. Because he waited by the bike that Eddie abandoned? Because Eddie didn’t plan to return to...the bike? 

**If Eddie dies, what matters?**

  
  
  


Anne and Dan approach him later, when the sky is dark and Venom’s eyes are filmed over because even with blinding eyes ruining his night vision, it’s better than Luke Crawford’s. In their arms, they carry two mountains of food in neatly stacked packages. 

_ Holy shit, that’s a lot of food.  _

“Hey Venom,” Anne says, approaching him without Dan’s hesitance. “How are you doing?” 

“ **Eddie didn’t come back for his bike** ,” Venom points out unnecessarily. But it’s answer enough. 

Anne seems to understand not just his words, but what he means, because she tells him, “The bike wasn’t his in the first place. If he gets in trouble, who knows what will happen to the bike. It might get run over, or someone worse than Eddie might end up with it. At least on the rack it’s a little bit safer.”

Venom grins crookedly. “ **Bikes need passengers. Without a passenger, they’re useless. If Eddie ended up with the bike, he should take care of it.** ”

Anne sighs. “I can understand Eddie and still think he’s a moron,” she says, handing Venom the packages. 

Dan sets his load on the ground. 

“You coming home with us?” Anne asks.

_ Wow, these people are nice. They’d willingly take you? _

Ignoring the Host, Venom shakes his head.

“Going to Crawford’s? Or to Eddie’s?”

“ **No place** ,” he says, resting his weight on the bike seat. 

With another sigh, Anne tells him, “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you, okay?”

Venom shrugs. “ **Depends on Eddie.** ” 

  
  
  


Across the city, Semyon is pacing. 

“Where did he go after Pier 39?” he asks, impatiently.

“The CVS camera feed spotted him on foot making his way along Jefferson. Facial recognition also found him in a selfie upload to Facebook outside Madame Tussauds. But the next cameras at Jack in the Box and Starbucks don’t show him on their feeds. He disappears.”

Lighting a cigarette, Semyon grinds out slowly, “Find. Him. We have been here too long. They are calling me more frequently to ask why this team stays in the States so long.”

“Did you tell the Bratva about Edward Brock?”

“No. It is an embarrassment that someone under my leadership could be a traitor. We will deal with Brock like we dealt with Todorov. By ourselves. It is only one man. He no longer has the symbiote?”

“The symbiote is still inside the baseball player our men were chasing in the stadium. How will you explain that footage to the Obshchak?”

“Druggie who didn’t pay his bill,” Semyon shrugs. “Any more clever questions you have for me?”

Sinking in his chair, the boyevik barks obediently, “No, Avtorityet Semyon Butorin,” and continues his search. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where many paths and errands meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE COMMENTS. <\-- Really can't say that enough.
> 
> ###  ALSO, IF YOU'RE 18+ IN AMERICA, GO VOTE ON TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6th!!!! 
> 
> ####  THERE ARE PLENTY OF CANDIDATES THAT HAVE DISAVOWED CORPORATE PAC MONEY!! 
> 
> We don't have to wait for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Hope is out there. 
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know if this counts as a cliffhangar or not. Hmm....  
> Also, I just realized I can use twitter to say when story updates will happen. Like, real time. Mind blown. Because I am an idiot. 
> 
> @jedtree if you're as averse to surprises as I am . Feel free to bug me about status because that's what I would do if I knew the twitter handles of the people who have stories I want updates for.

Of all the places Eddie could’ve tried crashing for the night, this was probably one of the worst choices. It had been nearing late afternoon when he’d joined the group for the guided tour of the WWII submarine USS Pamapnito. 

At first, it had been a way to kill time. 

Knowing Venom as well as he did, going back to the bike was basically not an option. Because V chose to be (at times) snarky, ridiculously childish, selfish, hypocritical,  _ hyper _ critical, and an all around obnoxious troll, it was easy to forget that the symbiote retained whatever information suited him from his hosts. 

V hadn’t just passively played puppetmaster with the hosts Carlton Drake had presented him. He’d absorbed scientific knowledge, tricks, tactics, and strategies, the street-wise savoir-faire of various homeless test subjects. And for all that he relied on his senses first and foremost, he’d absorbed enough information from Eddie’s memories that, when he was clear-headed enough to think, he made a passable investigator. 

Which meant, even if he wasn’t actively standing guard at the bike, V would know better than to abandon a lead, however unlikely. If it meant setting up a camera or paying some kid a few bucks to call him if someone tried to ride away with the bike, V would be sure to keep that bait on a line. 

Without reasonably quick transport, Eddie was stuck in the area. Out in the open wasn’t safe due to the cameras and V’s senses, but his walking-distance choices for hideaways were also limited. 

As he’d still been considering his options, Eddie had ended up on the submarine. And the submarine just so happened to have lots of nooks and crannies. 

He’d listened with half an ear to the tour guide until his group had reached the Crews’ Mess, at which point he’d slowly detached himself from the camera brigade that was already continuing on towards the Forward Engine Room. 

At the time, it had seemed like the perfect solution. 

And now, a few hours later, he’s trapped in a cold, steel, pitch black, teardrop-shaped submarine. There are bruises forming along his extremities from where he’s banged them against the interior hull, or the piping, or the bits and bobs and handles that stick out at odd intervals inside the sub. His back aches like a sonuvabitch and every noise seems to echo through the submarine, toe scuffles and heavier breaths magnified in his ears. The constant rolling and rocking of the sub as it rests on top of the water is also of no help to his empty, sensitive stomach. 

When he sleeps, it’s for an hour or so at a time, but for the most part, discomfort and eerie sounds in the dark keep him edged into a corner as he battles with his paranoia. Christ, if only Venom was here, everything would be better. 

V’s eyes could see in the dark, so Eddie wouldn’t end up banging into parts of the ship and picturing bugs or attackers shrouded by night where there weren’t any. 

And his back wouldn’t hurt and his fingers wouldn’t be numb from the cold with Venom’s warm, solid body curled around his.

But most of all, Eddie misses the company. 

The name-calling. 

The offbeat jokes.

The stories about life before the Life Foundation.

The conversations and stupid debates on things humans do. 

He manages to drift off for a final time before morning by murmuring to himself and pretending the echoes are replies in Venom’s deeper voice. 

  
  
  
  


It’s still dark out the next morning when Venom senses a familiar scent on the air. 

_ Your Eddie? _

Venom’s filmy gaze turns toward the parking lot where a sleek black car is backing into a parking space. “ **Anne and Dan** ,” he says, unnecessarily, since the Host can just as easily see them through the transparent car windows with their shared vision. 

Anne cuts the headlights as Dan gets out of the car with his purple duffel bag, but he waits for her to exit the vehicle so they can approach Venom together. 

_ Is Dan scared of you? _

Venom shrugs.  **More scared than Anne. She hosted me once, so she knows something of what symbiosis is like. Dan does not know me. He has seen me wearing humans like suits and, before I knew Eddie, I was eating his organs. That he speaks to me at all is very...progressive.**

The Host mentally snorts.  _ Good point. You’re a literal body-snatcher. I can’t wait to meet the guy who thought you were more important than his own life. Because we will find him. No way am I just going to resign myself to life as a backseat driver in my own body. _

Venom doesn’t respond. 

Humans like to talk themselves into belief. Eddie calls it ‘psyching himself up’. Venom doesn’t need to trick himself. 

The curse of his planet and his kind is the relentless drive forward. There is no such thing as motivation. There is only the Goal. 

If you are not at the Goal, you are not done. 

If you are not done, then you are moving forward, completing the steps that get you to the Goal. 

Eddie is the Goal. 

And Venom is not done. 

The best thing about Anne is that she is a lot like symbiotes. Where Luke is psyching himself up and Dan is looking dispirited, her face is determined - full of plans and possibilities. If Venom needed hope, he could find it in Anne’s face. 

“We’re going to breakfast,” she tells him. 

Leaning back to rest against the bike seat, Venom says, “Need to stay here. Eddie could come back.” 

She gestures to Dan. “We broke into Eddie’s  _ ‘secret’ _ storage locker at the train station. There were some tiny surveillance cameras and multi-battery packs. I’ve already linked the feed to an app on this prepaid phone,” she hands it to Venom. “Dan just needs to set up the camera so that the bike stays in view.”

Venom holds the phone flat on his palm, as if weighing the idea. 

“We won’t go far. There’s an IHOP just around the corner.”

With a sigh and a glance in Dan’s direction, who’s already fiddling with the camera, Venom nods his assent. 

“Fantastic,” she stretches out her hand and Dan presents her with the duffel bag strap. “But first, we need to fix your disguise. You didn’t manage to convince too many people yesterday. That beard is so atrocious that it’s just been attracting more attention.”

_ GODAMMIT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! DID PEOPLE RECOGNIZE YO - I MEAN,  ME? ASK HER!! ASK HER IF PEOPLE RECOGNIZED ME! HOLY SHIT, IF THIS IS ALL OVER THE INTERNET, YOU’RE DEAD! YOU HEAR ME? OH MY GOD, IF IT’S ON THE INTERNET, HAS MY MOM SEEN FOOTAGE OF ME RUNNING AROUND WITH MY UNDERWEAR SHOWING THROUGH MY OPEN FLY, WITH A SCRAGGLY-ASSED FAKE BEARD ON MY FACE? WHAT IF THE TEAM DROPS ME? WHAT IF -  _

WIth an eye roll, Venom tunes him out. He has life or death problems to worry about. The future of Luke Crawford does not concern him. Not that his attention would’ve lasted anyways.

As soon as Anne unzips the stupid, purple duffel bag, Venom’s transfixed. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep from ripping the bag away from her. Mouth filling with saliva, he sways forward.

“There was more than just cameras in the locker. Hold out your arms,” she says. When he complies, she removes the bunched up scraps of fabric - the sleeves that had ripped away from Eddie’s shirt due to the strain of the Host’s body - from around his wrists, and hands him a sweatshirt. 

Slowly, he buries his head in the material and inhales. There are many scents trapped within the fabric, but one of them is Eddie. A  _ younger _ Eddie. A slightly different cocktail of chemicals because of the differences in diet, hormone levels, and the hygiene products he once preferred to use, but still Eddie. 

Inside him, the Host gags.

“Don’t put it on just yet,” Anne warns, directing him to perch on the bike rack so that they’re closer to eye level.

Venom’s eyebrows go up when she pulls out a wig.

_ WE ARE NOT WEARING THAT! _ the Host is adamant.

Which is why Venom lets her remove his cap and place the long brown-haired wig over his head without complaint. 

_ NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO... _

**You sound like a cat video** . Venom mentally pushes the Host’s own memory of a video of a caterwauling feline at him.

Immediately, the litany of No’s stops.

Voice soothing, Anne tells Venom, “I went through a phase where I thought I was edgy enough to pull off short hair, like from that Billie Jean movie?” 

The Host’s memories supply an image of a blonde girl with spiky hair. 

“No surprise, my obsession with the film only lasted a week, after which I deeply regretted the haircut. Thankfully, my mother was sympathetic enough to buy me this wig,” she says as she pulls out a pair of scissors. 

Anne tucks the Host’s floppy blonde hair under the wig and begins to cut away some of the length. “This is going to be a little messy, maybe a bit uneven, but I don’t think anyone will notice if you wear the cap over it.”

_ Heh. Anne really is a quality babe. Did she dump Eddie before or after he got saddled with you? _

**Not your business** , Venom rumbles. Then, to distract the Host, (and out of pure curiosity), he asks Anne to tell him stories about Eddie. 

With a gentle pat to his head, she acquiesces. 

Beginning to cut and trim, she concurrently describes the date nights where Eddie’s spontaneous ideas would land them in inconvenient situations, the sleepy weekends spent indoors, lounging around in their pajamas all day, the weeks where Eddie would be hot on a story, popping up only at odd hours to eat a midnight snack together or drive her to work. 

“I remember thinking back then that he was tireless in his pursuit of the truth. I really admired the fact that it seemed like there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to, no sacrifice he wouldn’t make, to get at the truth. That is, until I was the one he sacrificed,” she says with a final snip.

With a hum, Venom pats her hand as it’s retracting away from his head. “ **He didn’t mean to sacrifice you. Eddie only thinks about the next step or two in a plan. His head is filled with facts and details, pieces of a puzzle that are scattered. He tries to fit them together and when they don’t fit he thinks about what pieces are missing and how to get them. He forgets everything but the work. Only if it rains does he remember to wash. Only if he hears an alarm or a church bell does he remember to sleep. Only the smell of takeout will remind him to eat. He didn’t think about your anger or the cost you would pay for the same reason he is always getting in trouble and for the same reason he can be so brave when pursuing a story - his mind only looks at the past and the near future to make decisions. In the** **_far_ ** **future, everything seems possible and he can’t prepare for every possibility. So, he focuses only on the things he knows will happen and prepares for those things. No more.** ”

Anne’s smile is amused. “That’s the most I think I’ve ever heard you say at one time. But, that does explain a lot. Thanks for sharing it with me. It does help to know he didn’t realize his actions would cost me my job.” She squeezes Venom’s hand briefly, then takes the cap from him so that he can put on the sweatshirt. 

The fit is shockingly loose despite the Host’s frame. It brings a grin to Venom’s face imaging Eddie wearing it. The sweatshirt would dwarf him, leaving him swimming in material. Instantly, it becomes one of his Goals to make sure Eddie wears this sweatshirt.

Anne places the cap on his head and hands him a pair of Eddie’s sweatpants from the duffel at her feet. “I let out the seams so they’d be long enough and, if I remember correctly, these pants used to be loose on Eddie.” 

The Host’s sigh of relief when the pants fit and his boxers are no longer showing is almost strong enough to bypass Venom’s control over the Host’s facial movements.  _ This woman is amazing. Can I have her number?  _

**Dan is her man. She does not need another.** Before Venom can put on his sunglasses, Anne catches his arm. 

“Just one more thing.” She removes a little bag from inside her purse.

The Host groans.  _ Tell her we don’t need it. This disguise is good enough.  _

“ **What is that?** ” Venom points with his chin.

“You’re facial features are rather distinctive, but with a little makeup, I could make your nose look thinner, draw a dimple into your chin, give you a mole, make your cheekbones look higher, and make the dusting of facial hair you’ve grown since yesterday look browner to match the wig.” 

“ **Those all sound like good things** ,” Venom says to both Anne and the Host.

_ I hate makeup! They make us wear it for commercials and photoshoots. It’s all greasy and thick. It feels like your face is dirty.  _

Venom ignores his Host’s whining and lets Anne draw on his face with brushes and paint pens. 

  
  
  
  


It’s no hardship to join the first tour group as if Eddie belongs there. 

Mostly because the tour guide looks as exhausted as Eddie feels. Her eyes are lined with dark circles, lids drooping, and she’s slurring all her sentences as she guides the little crowd of mostly ladies and gentlemen who seem to have graduated into the retirement phase of their life. That she manages to mumble through the same spiel she gave yesterday and point at the correct parts of the boat at the correct times in her speech is, to Eddie, supremely impressive. 

So impressive that he claps at the end of the tour.

It’s not even a sarcastic clap, but everyone glares at him. 

“ _ Sorry _ , just trying to be polite,” he mutters, throwing his hands up defensively. It’s too early for glares. 

It’s also too early to steal a granny’s blue cardigan off a bench armrest and a dock worker’s skull cap, but he does it anyways. 

Russians may need sleep, but their computers don’t.

The piece de resistance is the plastic frames of Harry Potter’s glasses that some kid must have lost on the street. Or thrown out, what with how cheap they are. But, whatever. He’ll take it. 

His first mission for the day - above even survival and evanding V -  is to get a big, large, huge, hot, steaming coffee. He wants to hold his hands around a cup of it and toast his fingers to the point where he can feel them again. Then he wants to take little sips, keeping the rim of the cup close to his face to feel the steam of it moistening his eyebrows. And when it’s just cool enough to take mouthfuls, he wants to gulp it down until the lethargy making his feet feel heavy goes away. And after that, he wants a refill.

It’s not good to be too predictable. 

If the Russians have his credit card history, they know that pre-Venom, he had a caffeine dependency. Sharing a body with a hyper energetic, fast metabolizing symbiote had helped wean him from his liquid salvation, but now he’s alone and exceptionally drowsy. 

If they make the reasonable assumption that he’ll be on the hunt for coffee this morning, they might try to use his preference for community run coffee shops against him. So, he skips Fire & Brew. His second preference, if he has to buy his cuppa joe from a soulless corporate chain, is for places that specialize in coffee. So, he skips Starbucks. 

The safest option would be a coffee cart, but there aren’t any in the area, if memory serves. It occurs to him that McDonald’s is in the other direction, but that he deems a step too far on the quality chain. He doesn’t know what the coffee tastes like there, but, just  _ no _ . Too soulless. Also, it’s in the other direction. Which is too far. 

He needs coffee now. 

And hey, whaddya know. 

An IHOP.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###  GO VOTE ON TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6th!!!! 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No escape, Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...yeah. This part, this first POV, was supposed to be short. Like super short. Like, la la la, oh, plot!? We welcome you! It's longer than I expected, and probably shorter than you expected. 
> 
> Also came home late today, which severely shortened the time frame I could work on this.  
> I make no promises that the next chapter will be up tomorrow, but I will try my best ;) Because, no Yoda, sometimes there is a try.
> 
> ALSO, HOLY SMOKES...
> 
> ###  THANKS TO THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS "Extremely" (AO3 Handle), THIS FIC NOW HAS FAN ART! 
> 
> I fell asleep yesterday before I could post all of 'em on tumblr, but I'll put them up tonight, and then see about adding them to this fic proper. 
> 
> **ARTIST LINK:** https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extremely/pseuds/Extremely

 

Anne orders Venom plate after plate of pancakes.

At the first three orders, none of the IHOP employees bat an eye.

At the second round of three orders, there are concerned blinks exchanged amongst the staff but they fulfill the order without comment. 

It’s not until Anne returns to the counter a fourth time to order plates nine and ten that the boy at the register audibly guffaws, much to the giggling pleasure of the cooks in the back. 

She returns to the table with hot tea, the server right behind her with full plates of food.

“Honestly, how can Eddie afford to keep you well-fed?” Anne asks, retaking her seat on the other side of the booth, back comfortably to the door. 

“ **He can’t. Which is why we hunt for food when we are hungry.** ” 

“Hunt? Eddie can  _ hunt _ ? And what does he hunt? Squirrels? The nearest hunting zone is hours away. Do you mean fishing?”

Venom’s saved from having to answer just what kind of “game” he and Eddie hunt when the little bell over the door rings, announcing another customer in the otherwise empty IHOP. 

The man who tromps into the restaurant brings with him the salty smell of the bay. Dirt-caked hiking boots leave footprints across the tiled floor as he approaches the counter, fingers twisted into his grizzly beard.

In a thick accent, he tells the boy at the register, “I want waffles.”

“Um, which kind, sir? We’ve got sweet and savory, Belgian, Vanilla Spice, Buttermilk-”

“JUST. WAFFLES,” then man barks, before taking a seat in the corner, with a view of the front door door. 

_ Whoa, is that one of the Russians? _

**Is. Isn’t. As long as he doesn’t smell like blood and death, who cares?** Venom only pays the gruff man enough mind to tilt his head so that his scent is filled more with pancakes than human detritus as he digs in. 

For a few minutes there is just silence broken intermittently by the scrape of plates and the sizzle of grills at the IHOP.

Resting a hand against her cheek, Anne watches him eat, expression ponderous.

“ **What?** ” Venom asks after a time, slathering his pancake stack with melted butter.

“You’re so different from how I thought you were,” she says, bemused. 

“ **How?** ”

Anne waves her fingers vaguely. “While you and I were joined together, your fixation on Eddie was, frankly...disturbing. If his life hadn’t been in danger, I wouldn’t have agreed to lead you to him.” 

“ **Why?** ” Venom asks, forcing Luke’s jaw to unhinge briefly, all the better to shove half a pancake stack into his mouth. 

Behind the counter, the cashier spills plastic spoons all over the floor.

Venom can hear the boy’s heart beating too fast in his chest. As he looks up, he finds the boy’s wide-eyed gaze glued to Venom’s face. 

Fear keeps the boy’s limbs locked and frozen. He’s barely breathing, like a child at a horror movie for adults. 

_ Shoot, poor kid. Why can’t you eat like a normal person? _

**He shouldn’t stare if he doesn’t like what he sees.** Venom grins at the boy with a mouthful of uneven, needle-pointed teeth. When he finally turns his attention back to Anne, she has an eyebrow cocked, thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I don’t really think you have to ask. Besides the fact that you were literally  _ eating _ Eddie on the sly, you were also a space alien of unknown origin showing signs of controlling behavior. I never imagined that you could actually be good for him.” 

The bell over the door rings again and this time it’s a familiar scent carried in by the breeze from the open door. 

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a good spot for a camera when you can’t really see what the feed looks like,” Dan says, rubbing the arms of his light jacket as he enters and sits down next to Anne. “I eyeballed the angle and managed to camouflage the black equipment against a street post, but if anyone spots it, I’m pretty sure Eddie will never see that camera again.”

“ **Karma** ,” Venom mutters, tapping the app on the prepaid phone with a thick finger to bring up the camera feed. The picture is a little shaky, but it will service for the time being. It’s set to beep whenever a male matching the relative parameters of Eddie’s height and physique walks within a twenty foot range of the bike, so Venom puts the device in his pocket.

“What’s that you said?” Dan asks, telegraphing with slow, exaggerated movements that he’s about to steal a corner of the cut-up pancake on Venom’s plate.

“ **Karma** ,” Venom repeats louder, picking up the fluffy scrap of pancake and plopping it in Dan’s surprised, open fish-mouth. “ **No less than he deserves if someone walks away with something that belongs…** ” 

The bell over the door rings for the third time this morning. 

“ **... to him.** ” 

“Color me unsurprised that your philosophy in life is Tit for Ta - ”

Venom clamps a hand over Anne’s mouth, adrenaline suddenly rushing through his veins. Every muscle in his body is corded and locked tight. 

_ Whoa, what’s happening? It feels like I’m having a heart attack. I’m too  _ young _ to be having a heart attack! What did you  _ do _?! I told you it wasn’t healthy to eat at IHOP! _

Venom ignores the Host as his hearing tunes into every noise - the clank of plates, the various breathing rhythms of humans in the vicinity, the sound of rubber soles against tile. All ambient noises that a human walking into a dining establishment would expect to hear. Nothing to startle away the man who’s just walked in. 

Without speaking, Anne removes Venom’s hand from her mouth and turns her head calmly, following his locked-on stare in the direction of the register.

For all that it’s been less than forty-eight hours since he last saw Eddie, Venom is struck once again by how precious  _ his _ human is. 

Eddie smells like mothballs, old newspaper, gutted fish, gun oil, salt, sweaty socks and unwashed skin. 

It’s enough to make Venom’s mouth water.

Drunk on the scent of Eddie, he finds his gaze turning equally thirsty, drinking in the sight of broad, familiar shoulders, the tussle of sun-bronzed hair, the curved line of Eddie’s back. 

Venom’s hands itch with the need to touch the shapes of him - the rounded edges of flappy ears that stick out from his head; the long point of his nose; the square, scratchy length of his overgrown jaw; the sturdy, unflinching cords of muscle covering his knobby bones; and all those juicy, red bits inside him that Venom has been keeping healthy. 

Like a dedicated gardener, he wants to check in on liver, pancreas, kidneys, heart…to tend and nurture and heal them from all that they’ve suffered in the weeks of hunger, sleeplessness, and near-constant stress.

Because, undoubtedly,  **his** human is beautiful.

But he is also damaged. 

There are new, dark colors painting his skin and creating peaks and valleys where there were none. His shoulders, though lovely, are bunched up tight beneath his ears and sloped forward, the way they only ever got on the nights he’d spent cramped and cold on fire escapes or rooftops with Venom too low on energy to cover him. And he smells so  _ tired _ . 

Defeated. 

It’s that mixed, pathetic scent of need and despair that mindlessly raises Venom from the booth and draws him slowly into Eddie’s orbit. 

This moment feels like a dream. 

He can hear the Host in his mind as if he’s speaking from a far off distance, only catching snippets --

 

_...not bad looking…for a dude… _

_...looks like the kinda sweaty guy that frequents IHOPs at 2 AM... _

_...convinced Anne to date him?!… _

_...of all the people he could’ve saddled with you, he just had to choose… _

_...he a big baseball fan? Or just a medium… _

_...can’t believe I’m wearing his… _

_...good thing he didn’t leave underwear at the ... _

_...gonna say anything? Please, andale! Get out of me and slither back to… _

_...wonder what I did in a past life to deserve… _

  
\-- as Venom silently slides into the space at Eddie’s side.

 

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s there, so they stand in silence.

Venom, staring from behind his sunglasses with his own alien eyes at Eddie’s profile.

Eddie, stirring cream into the biggest-sized coffee IHOP offers.

Seconds tick by.

First five.

Then ten. 

Then thirty-five.

But finally,  _ finally _ , after a minute has passed,  Eddie turns, bleary-eyed, to Venom and says…

“Can you pass me a napkin?”

Venom blinks at him. 

Swaying a bit on his feet, Eddie points around Venom’s wide frame at the napkin holder. “One or t-two,” he yawns, “would be just fine.”

Wordlessly, Venom pulls a paper napkin out of the holder and passes it to Eddie.

“Thanks, p-pal,” Eddie yawns again, already backing away and heading towards the side hallway, where there are doors to the bathrooms, janitor’s closet, and back exit. 

Mouth hanging open unflatteringly from shock, Venom listens to the rush of air as Eddie heads out the back exit. 

Listens as Eddie’s heartbeat - the only one in the alley - starts to pick up from the dual stimulus of cold wind and hot caffeine. 

Listens as he starts to move with trudging, wobbly footsteps towards the mouth of the alley, where it meets the nearest street.

From Venom’s stupor, the Host’s shouting in his head doesn’t rouse him.

Neither do Dan’s gentle pats on his shoulder or the arm Dan waves in front of his eyes.

It takes Anne’s sharp, flat hand slapping the hollow of his cheek to snap him out of his trance.

And once he’s out,  **oh, he is** **_OUT._ **

Licking the air, hearing still tuned into Eddie’s heartbeat, Venom grins. 

The Host shudders beneath the onslaught of adrenaline, the rush of blood flooding their system, the rise in temperature as each muscle heats with the thrill of being so close to THE GOAL. 

**No escape, Eddie.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #  VOTING DAY! 
> 
> Apparently, there's a nifty app/site (that I have yet to use) called Downticket.com that supposedly makes knowing what candidates stand for easier? Or at least points out the interesting elections this season.
> 
> #  SEE YOU AT THE POLLS!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion & Rostanie
> 
> (Also, trigger warning: suicide is discussed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE COMMENTS! THEY'VE BEEN THE GREATEST SOURCE OF MOTIVATION! (I'll be responding soon, because if you took the time to leave a thought, I want you to know I saw it and it meant something to me)
> 
> ### AND CAN'T SAY THANKS ENOUGH TIMES TO "Extremely" (AO3 Handle) 
> 
> (I've been meaning to post some of the additional fanart Extremely drew for this story, but a project deadline has been eating into my time. Expect to see that up soon! )
> 
> ARTIST LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extremely/pseuds/Extremely

  
  


Greedily inhaling the steam that rises from his paper cup, Eddie braves the chill of the outdoors in an effort to keep moving. 

Though, he’s not sure if the “don’t stay in one place too long” instinct is the right one to be following. Maybe if he can find a reasonable place to hide out, the Russians will assume he’s escaped their net and they’ll broaden their search area? If they’re even  _ in _ the area. 

Yeah, he can look out for people in shiny tracksuits, drinking vodka for breakfast, chain-smoking and wearing situationally-inappropriate fancy dress shoes but stereotypes will only protect him so far, and San Francisco is rather problematic in terms of viewfinders per capita. If it’s not big businesses keeping an eye on their in-store merchandise, then it’s tourists taking pictures to post on instagram. 

Gut feelings are not Eddie’s strong suit. He’s been led astray before - like, when he decided the Russian mob story was a good idea despite various colleagues (and Venom) warning him away - but he’s pretty sure he’s not wrong in thinking that the smart move here is to find a place where there are less cameras and fewer people. 

Like, outside the city.

There are at least two, sizeable National Parks in California the Eddie can name offhand.

Except, one problem.

As a born and bred city boy, he’s  _ really _ not confident in his outbacking skills. To the point that he’s not sure he could figure out how to start a campfire (and keep it from turning into a wildfire). Let alone finding some safe-to-eat greenery and safe-to-drink water out in the (polluted) wild. Hunting and fishing? Are an impossibility. If he were to encounter game, instead of hunting it down and having it for breakfast, Eddie’s pretty sure he’d end up getting chased. (Even deer can be dangerous.)  

So, maybe a better option is to find a farm he can lurk around? Somewhere with hay to sleep in, and recognizable greenery arranged in neat little rows, ripe for the picking? 

Except, new problem. 

Eddie doesn’t know where to find this hypothetical farm. He’d need access to the internet first. Or ask around. Because asking random strangers to look up “farms that have hay bales” on their phones isn’t weird or creepy. 

Eddie scoffs. With his luck, the first person he’d end up asking would be one of Semyon’s henchmen.  

Shit, it’s too much to think about. 

Too much to plan.

Just,  _ too much _ .

Leaning against IHOP’s huge industrial dumpster, Eddie takes a second to chug down the rest of his already-lukewarm coffee. With a pained groan directed at his empty cup, he tries convincing himself that he feels more awake and that the paltry shot of caffeine to his system is enough to keep him going. 

He waits for the message to sink into his subconscious...

Yeah, nope. 

No more awake than he was ten minutes ago, Eddie decides that his next destination is going to be the Burger Shack a few streets further south, where he can get his next hit. 

Still, it’s with disappointment that he releases the tension on the dumpster’s fancy lockbar, meant for keeping the racoons out of IHOP’s food refuse, and lifts the heavy polyethylene lid to throw his cup into the bin. 

It’s funny because it was just a paper cup, but Eddie feels better for not having anything in his hands. More prepared to grapple with angry, overly-determined Russians. 

Yeah,  _ prepared _ . 

So prepared that his eyelids are drooping. His jaw clicks unpleasantly on a yawn and, a second later, he’s tripping over his own two feet. Eddie  _ just _ manages to keep from careening headfirst into asphalt.

Mostly because there’s a huge, fucking  _ HAND ON HIS SHOULDER! _

Scrambling away, Eddie turns about face, heart throbbing a painful rhythm in his chest, because  _ what the fuck?!  _

How long has someone been standing in the same alley without him noticing?

Talk about a wakeup call. 

Trying to control gasping breaths, Eddie’s eyes flicker over unfamiliar facial features, searching for some of the characteristic shapes he’s learned to look for over the course of his time on the run, but they aren’t there. 

No prominent nose, heart-shaped face, or high cheekbones.

Not that that guarantees anything.

The dude just looks like a really tall, totally ripped guy who just happens to be enjoying his morning in an alleyway. And staring at Eddie. Without blinking. 

Swallowing hard, Eddie says, “Thanks,” hoping for an unaccented reply.

“ **Welcome** ,” the dude says, in a voice too deep.

There isn’t an accent. 

“Huh. You know, you should be a ninja. I swear I didn’t hear you come up behind me. You nearly gave me…”

The dude licks his lips.

“...a heart attack,” Eddie finishes, weakly. 

Because, the dude’s tongue? Is  _ too long _ . 

“Oh shit.” 

Eddie’s system goes through an adrenaline dump as he  _ absolutely _ tries to outrun a pro baseball player-wearing superalien. 

He doesn’t get three feet.

V catches him around the waist with lightning-quick tendrils that cocoon his torso. 

He’s pulled back into Venom’s chest, held immobile as a hand finds his hair, threading into shaggy, unkempt locks and tugging just enough so V can find his mouth with his own. 

It’s not so much a kiss as an onslaught. 

V’s wet, thick, prehensile tongue does unspeakable things inside his mouth while the fuse of their lips lets him suck all the air out of Eddie, leaving him breathlessly tipped backwards. It feels like his recently-tattered soul is being devoured.

And, damn, but it feels good.

Arms still pinned to his sides, Eddie twists to slide closer and V happily obliges.

  
  
  
  
  


Venom grins into the kiss.

For all that his idiot likely still feels the misguided need to save Venom, Eddie’s mindlessly caught up in this moment of addictive need, eyes mirroring the same sense of incompleteness Venom has felt since they parted. Pushing him away doesn’t even seem to register as an option for Eddie. 

They’re both too desperate to get closer, driven by the urge to bind tighter, become whole.

_Yes, you should become whole! Why are you still here?_ _ALSO,_ _QUIT MAKING OUT!_

Venom licks in deeper, turns wicked jabs into drawn out thrusts between Eddie’s coffee-bitter lips. 

_ I said your Eddie  wasn’t bad-looking. NOT THAT I WANTED TO EAT HIS FACE OFF. AND DON’T IGNORE ME! WHY AREN’T YOU LEAVING YET?! _

Venom hums happily.  **Because this is a rare treat. Speaking of eating faces...**

With the Host’s nubby teeth that don’t pierce skin, Venom takes the opportunity to nip at soft lips, bite along fuzzy jawline, and nibble into Eddie’s neck, right along the carotid artery. As he does so, he also hooks into the Host’s sensory perception, basking in the experience of Eddie in high definition. 

For the first time since Anne, Venom can experience  two organic neural networks processing all that is Eddie in real time. Not only his own sensory experience of Eddie, but the _ Host’s _ .

Meaning, he can also smell Eddie’s sweat and skin at a higher level, without chemical granularity or scent interference. 

Can see the colors and dimensions of Eddie through human eyes without the limited two-dimensional help of a mirror like in the moments he’d hooked into Eddie. 

Can feel the shape of Eddie against him more firmly without the distance of towering two feet over his head.

It’s wonderful.

But still not enough.

Less than forty-eight hours and yet they’re clinging to each other like it’s been years, each kiss more frantic than the last.

**Need to be closer. To connect. Be with Eddie.** **_Inside_ ** **him.**

_ THEN GO ALREADY! _

And Venom’s just about to, tendrils already penetrating skin, absorbing into his receptive -  **feels like home** \- host, when Eddie abruptly starts to struggle, pulling away and fighting Venom’s hold. A message reaches Venom along the tendrils that connect them together, clear and loud as a bell. 

STOP.

With crushing reluctance, Venom immediately retracts tongue and tendrils. 

The kiss breaks on Eddie’s panicked gasp.

Grumbling, the Host says,  _ OH, I see. When _ he  _ tells you to stop, you stop.  _

**Shut up** . Venom’s hyper-focuses on Eddie and his sudden spike of anxiety. It’s strong enough to raise the hair on the back of the Host’s head, making him nervous just from sheer exposure.

“You can’t come back,” Eddie blurts out. 

When silence greets his declaration, he explains, “Nothing’s changed V. I’m still on their hit list.”

“ **Alone, you won’t survive. I am your best chance** ,” Venom hisses.

“Yeah, sure, but I’m not  _ your _ best chance. We don’t know what information they have on you. The only thing we know for sure is that they got ahold of Life Foundation files, since they’ve been using fire and noise against us. We can also guess they’ll be better prepared now that they know first hand how powerful you are, given the pain we rained down on the first few waves of Russians back when we were stronger.”

“ **We can be strong again** ,” Venom says, a guarantee in his voice. “ **Luke Crawford will feed us this time.** ”

_ Oh, so now you want me to host both you guys in my home too? Don’t I get a say in this? _

“ **We belong together, Eddie, and the separation cannot stand, like it or not. It distracts us when we can’t afford to be distracted, depresses us when we both need optimism, and weakens us because we are** **_both_ ** **stronger together than apart.** ” 

“Not true, V. In fact, blatantly false. I mean, yeah, I’m stronger with a superalien inside me, and you can’t survive without a body to carry you around, but your strength increases with a stronger host. Tell me that’s not true?” Eddie dares.

Venom rolls his eyes. 

“Admit it. You’re stronger in a human than when you were in a bunny rabbit. And you’re stronger in Luke than you were in me.”

“ **Strength is a function of compatibility. What could I possibly have in common with a bunny rabbit? But you and I? Are** **_perfect_ ** **.** ” Venom starts to reach for him again, tendrils lapping at Eddie’s feet.

“Ok, then what’s the plan? If you think we can survive, then tell me how? We were doing moderately okay in the beginning, but it just got worse from there. How is this time going to be any different? Please, convince me.”

_ He’s got a point _ , the Host chimes in.  _ I mean, look at him.  _

Venom’s knee jerk reaction is to lash out at the Host and he’s prepared to do just that. But as he stands over Eddie in the Host’s body, he’s struck by how small he is. 

Eddie has muscles that tire easily, has gotten much thinner...almost sickly, and he’s so short for a human. The Host, Luke Crawford, who can’t even twitch a brow without Venom’s help, is bigger by a head.

Experimentally, Venom grabs two fistfuls of Eddie’s shirt and easily lifts him up. The cardigan doesn’t even rip more than a few seams, his weight easily manageable as long as it stays distributed. 

“Um, V? Wh-what are you doing?” Eddie asks, catching at Venom’s forearms to ease some of the strain on the threads.

“ **Weighing your stupidity** ,” Venom mutters.

It startles an endearing chuckle out of Eddie as Venom places him back on the ground.

Endearing is a good word for Eddie. A better word is  **_precious_ ** . Followed by a whole host of unflattering words like  **idiot** ,  **moron** ,  **loser** ,  **thick-headed dolt** ,  **asshat** and  **dipstick** . But for all the times that Eddie’s been wrong, as much as it pains Venom to admit, the separation had been a good idea. 

Just not for the reason Eddie thinks. 

Transferring Venom to another Host in order to “save him” had been stupid, because without Eddie, there’s no reason to continue. 

Eddie is the Goal.

Without Eddie, Venom is not done. 

If Eddie had died, Venom would’ve pursued him into whatever came next, be it an afterlife or nonexistence.

But, in a way, Eddie had been right. 

Separation is the answer. 

And Venom should have seen it. 

Although separation from his other half is anathema to Venom, it would’ve been, and still is, worth doing if it means saving  _ Eddie _ . All he needs is the right Host.

Already, bits and pieces of a plan are starting to accumulate around the edges of Venom’s thoughts. It’s just a question of stitching it all together, into something safe and cohesive. He feels sanguine for the first time since this all started. 

But Eddie is not on the same page.

“You don’t have an answer, do you?” he asks, tone defeated. The rest of him even more so. 

Venom can feel a well of despair inside Eddie and, for a moment, he’s confused. 

Can’t Eddie see the nascent plan? 

Can’t he tell that Venom is finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel?

They don’t need to resort to immigrating to Sweden or living out the rest of their lives in Peru. There’s a way they can just stay here, reclaim their home turf. 

_ Guessing the feedback you’re getting from him through your... _ tentacles _ is one-sided. Maybe you should act like a person and communicate your almost-plan verbally? _

**Ah** . The Host is right. He never taught Eddie how to access their growing connection. He never  _ needed _ to, and never  _ expected _ to. 

Because they aren’t meant to be apart. 

“ **You’re an idiot, Eddie. A pathetic, helpless loser without us. When so much is on the line, how could I** **_not_ ** **have a plan?** ” Venom says, but his voice is soft, fingers tracing gently over his cheek. “ **How did you last more than an hour on your own against the Russians?** ” he jokes, but as he says it, Venom realizes he’s sincerely curious. 

“ **Wait, how** **_did_ ** **you survive? If it was so difficult together, how did you manage on your own?** ”

With a stupid grin, Eddie snorts. “Nearly didn’t.” 

But the images that reach Venom through the tendrils still lapping at Eddie’s feet are not of Russian gangsters with guns and flamethrowers. 

Instead, it’s Eddie standing despondently in the shower, watching the water slip down the drain and wishing it was red.

It’s Eddie jimmying open lockers on the hunt for toiletries and finding only board shorts and wallets. 

It’s Eddie counting the number of Advil in the bottle claimed from the bottom of some man’s gym bag, wondering if it’s enough to drop him into endless sleep. 

It’s Eddie choosing death.

Venom goes rigid, blood freezing in the Host’s veins as icy rage courses through him. “ **You...are prepared to leave this world.** ” 

Eddie’s stupid grin stiffens a bit at the corners.

“ **You are** **_still_ ** **prepared. To leave** **_me_ ** ,” Venom realizes, frost in his deepening voice, as he delves into Eddie’s thoughts to see the ending he is, even now, picturing - of going to the CVS on the corner, buying a pack of razor blades meant for shaving, and carving into the flesh that  **no longer belongs to** **_just_ ** **him** .  

Grin still fixed in place -  _ paralyzed _ into place by apprehension - Eddie’s eyes widen. 

With long, needle teeth extended, Venom growls, “ ** _YOU._** **ARE PREPARED TO ABANDON** ** _US_**.” 

To his credit, Eddie does not run. There is no trace of him calculating his chances. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind. 

That would assuage Venom, if he wasn’t already past the point of assuaging. 

Fingers molding into claws, Venom lets loose a shriek of rage. 

“ **YOU WOULD TAKE AWAY** **_OUR_ ** **EVERYTHING. THOUGHTLESSLY DESTROY** **_US_ ** **ON A WHIM. KILL THE ONLY THING** **_WE’VE_ ** **EVER LOVED BECAUSE WHY?!** ”

Eddie’s startled mind doesn’t immediately provide the answer, which only serves to push Venom closer to the edge. The Host is shaking, bloody gashes forming like earthquake fissures along skin as Venom holds on just enough to keep himself contained inside the human vessel. But it costs him all patience and practicality.

“V-v, I only ever considered it becau-”

Venom seizes Eddie by the shirt and effortlessly lifts him off the ground, tendrils suspending him in place against the wall. “ **IT’S A** **_BETRAYAL_ ** **, EDDIE. WORSE THAN ABUSING MY TRUST TO LULL ME TO SLEEP. WORSE THAN LEAVING ME TO THIS HOST. WORSE THAN NOT SAYING GOODBYE. YOU DON’T GET TO ABANDON US, EDDIE. WE ARE NOT A FUCKING BICYCLE!** ” 

Flinching in on himself, Eddie doesn’t argue. Doesn’t make excuses. Offers no explanations. Just meets Venom’s accusing stare with plaintive eyes. “I’m sorry, Venom,” he says, and he does mean it. 

Every part of him means it. 

Every part of him regrets the pain he’s caused.

But there are still doubts. He still doesn’t understand. 

And sorry is not enough. 

_ What are you going to do? _ the Host asks, unintentionally. The Host is scared. Worried. Does not like this side of Venom. He did not mean to interrupt or attract Venom’s attention. 

Venom answers, darkly,  **You will see. Presently, in fact.**

Pulling the phone Anne gave him from his pocket, Venom opens one of the pre-installed social media applications and types in Eddie’s username and password. Then, he navigates to the phone’s camera and takes Eddie’s picture. 

His actions are met with no protest. Eddie is utterly resigned.

When Venom posts the photo to the application, it’s with the geolocation feature enabled. 

_ Wait, doesn’t that mean the Russians can find him now?  _

**Yes** .

_ And...that’s okay with you? _ The Host is shocked.

**Yes** . 

Abruptly, he lifts Eddie with his tendrils and carries him over to the dumpster. One hand loosens the tension on the lockbar, the other lifts the lid. 

And the tendrils throw Eddie inside.

  
  
  
  


Inside the dumpster, Eddie swallows hard, trying to allay his anxieties. 

Because  _ this _ is a temper tantrum. 

If there’s one thing he can be sure of in this world, it’s that there is nothing he could do to permanently earn the wrath of Venom. It’s a weird statement to make - sounds disgustingly narcissistic even inside his head - but true nonetheless. He can feel it way down to his bones. It’s an assurance that’s been systematically imprinted into the very core of his being by Venom himself. 

There are other things Venom’s tried to imprint that haven’t stuck nearly as well. 

Declarations of love and possession. 

Of obsessive bonds and ocean-deep connections.

Ridiculous.

It’s one thing for Venom to be unable to wish Eddie dead (although that’s no small feat considering the symbiote’s carnivorous nature) but it’s another thing entirely to claim a boundless, unending, ever-enduring love for a weaker alien species. 

Other humans know well enough to leave Eddie to his semi-self-destructive, immature, and delinquent tendencies.

So an alien from an advanced species should know twice as well.

But, whatever. It’s not like it matters. 

Venom’s impulsive decision has put them on the clock. No way is the symbiote angry enough to put Eddie on a platter and serve him to the Russians. So he’s probably right outside, waiting for Eddie to make this right.

The question in Eddie’s mind is whether he’ll be able to talk V down before trouble arrives. 

Just because Venom’s confident enough to suddenly be playing with fire doesn’t mean the symbiote’s right.

What made the Russians so tough as the weeks had dragged on was that there were  _ so _ many of them, and each time they had come with more intricate attacks. 

It could very well be that Venom has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

Hell, even if V manages to escape unharmed, if the Russians capture Eddie, that could potentially be just as bad. 

He knows his limits, and those limits don’t extend to resisting Russian torture tactics. Maybe he can withstand having his fingers broken or taking a beating, but once they get to pulling nails from finger beds, plying teeth, and waterboarding , Eddie will cave, something will slip, and Russian questions will be answered.

Because the questions  _ will _ come, undoubtedly. 

Guaranteed, they’ll ask about Venom. About what he is. What his powers are. How he can be controlled. They will get answers, and best case scenario, they’ll kill Eddie after the interrogation and those answers won’t do them any good. 

Worst case? They’ll use Eddie to control Venom. 

Have the symbiote rob banks, bring down governments, fight rival mobs and cartels.

Fuck, the possibilities are terrible. 

It takes a lot of effort for Eddie to calm down. Breathe. Convince himself that it could be worse.

At least it’s...soft and warm in here? He’s sitting on bagged mush that smells like old pancakes, bacon, and coffee grounds, which is infinitely better than sharp-sharded alternatives. Or, at least Venom would think so.

Because it’d be stupid not to, he tries to push at the dumpster lid, straining for as much leverage as he can, but it doesn’t budge. 

Venom must’ve replaced the lockbar. 

Reseating himself on trash, Eddie says, “I really am sorry V,” with some confidence that Venom’s still out there and can hear him. “I know giving up seems like no kind of solution to you, but I honestly thought it’d be better for both of us. I mean, there are better people out there than me. You have no idea how many options you have. It’s like, over eight billion choices. There’s bound to be at least one other person out there who fits you. And, I figured, since you don’t seem to age much, that you’d be able to find that other person, even if it took you a few decades of hopping between hosts. It’s not much of an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. I hate that I hurt you. But you know me. You know what I’m like. I didn’t make any of the choices I did maliciously. I just wanted what was best for you. Come on, V, forgive me?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing. 

Just wind howling around the bulk of the dumpster.

A few minutes tick by and,  _ finally _ , there’s the sound of the lockbar unhinging from atop the lid. Then, open sky above him. 

Spirits lifting, Eddie rises unsteadily to his feet and peaks over the edge. “Thanks, Ven - oh.”

Shit. 

There’s four men standing in a loose circle outside of the dumpster. 

One of them has a hand on his hip, covering a bulge of material, beneath which is probably a firearm. 

Another looks like he just came back from a harrowing journey through the Russian tundra - so, like Eddie, except with more beard growth and mud on his shoes instead of pancake syrup. 

The third is flexing his fingers, as if hoping Eddie will run so he can pound him into the concrete and drag him off to the car of the last guy, who is the best dressed of the assemblage and stands apart from the other three, twirling a set of car keys around a finger. 

“Easy way or hard way?” asks Car Keys. 

There’s a long moment where Eddie waits for Venom to make a move. Because he has to still be in the area right? 

Time is held suspended as Eddie tilts his head, listening for sounds further down the alley or around the corner. 

Nothing.

With the Russians starting to look impatient and Browbeater squeezing his fists so tight that the clicks of his knuckles are audible, Eddie says, “Easy way,” and begins to climb out of the trash. 

Impatiently, Browbeater grabs him by the back of his cardigan and yanks him off the dumpster like it’s nothing. 

“You know, you should learn to relax your grip more. You’re going to end up with arthritis.”

That earns him a boot down the alley and then he gets dragged the rest of the way to the vehicle, to Car Keys’s amusement. 

And all the while, Eddie waits for something to happen. 

For Luke-Venom to appear, swinging a tire iron.

For one of the Russians to suddenly start shooting at the other three, while tendrils spring forth to protect Eddie.

For the police to arrive to save him without Venom’s direct participation.

But nothing happens.

Not sure how to feel about this situation, Eddie gets in the car without a fight. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. Cut chapter 10 in half. Decided to split good from bad. I guess, enjoy the nice moments since they're here?  
> Also, need to make sure the logic in the next chapter is sound.  
> After all, a solution is only as good as it is believable. Hopefully it won't read like "oh, the McGuffin! It saves us!" 
> 
> On the plus side, it means for a faster release of the next chapter ;) Yay? Looking forward to all the bad? I know, me neither.
> 
> ###  THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORTIVE COMMENTS! 
> 
> LoL - it's the sugar that makes the medicine go down.

 

Leaving Eddie locked in the dumpster, Venom storms into the IHOP through the back entrance, denting the handle in the process. He approaches the table where Dan and Anne sit with the same clipped pace.

They look up from their intimate discussion as he arrives before them. 

“Where’s Eddie?” Dan asks.

Anne raises her brows high. “Don’t tell me you lost him.”

“ **He’s out back** ,” Venom rumbles. “ **Waiting** .” 

Dan accepts this easily. 

_ Dude’s too trusting _ , the Host comments, but his attention is distracted as he tries to regain control of his hearing and sight. 

The Host wants to check on Eddie, fairly twitching in the back of Venom’s mind with paranoia that as soon as Eddie’s out of sight, he’ll be taken away. It’s an annoying feeling. Like a dog yanking on a leash. 

**The Russians are not here** , Venom reminds him. 

_ But they will be soon, right? Shouldn’t you be getting into position for when they _ do  _ show up? Aren’t you worried? Like, at all? _

**No.**

“Why didn’t Eddie come inside?” Anne asks.

“ **Locked him in the dumpster** ,” Venom says, easily.

_ Um, wow, you’re pretty shameless, huh? Then again, why am I surprised?  _

“Why would you do that?” Dan asks, startled. 

Anne asks no questions. She’s busy watching his face.

He returns her stare. “ **This is goodbye for now. Thank you both for your help** ,” Venom tells them, because it is what Eddie would do. But he does not offer information or assurances. The plan doesn’t include them. It’s not their right to make judgements. He doesn’t want their opinions. 

Anne stands. She’s smaller than Eddie, but ten times as terrifying - which may still be an underestimate. After all, Eddie is never terrifying. 

“You’re going to keep him safe,” she says, voice hard. It is a command, not a request. 

Humans shake hands when they are making deals.

Venom puts his hand where the Host’s chest drums with a heartbeat. “ **I will** ,” he says, because it is his solemn vow. Not a deal. 

Anne’s smile, he decides, is a sign of her trust.

Partly out of discomfort and partly because goodbyes are said while standing, Dan gets to his feet. “It was fascinating to finally meet you,” he says, and hesitantly offers his hand. 

Venom stares at the extended appendage until it retracts. 

_ Geezus, man, WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST SHAKE HIS HAND?! HE GAVE UP HIS DAY OFF TO CHASE YOUR... person _ , the Host says, snippy and annoyed out of fearful confusion over Venom’s actions. 

Venom can feel the questions piling up on the side of their shared space of thoughts that is Luke Crawford.  **Handshakes are for deals. This is not a deal, either. This is goodbye** , he explains, the human’s fear replacing some of his simmering anger with patience. 

Then he meets Dan’s eyes. “ **Your help was invaluable, but I won’t be needing it again. I don’t plan to ever lose track of my loser in -** ” a phone rings behind him, buzzing against the laquered wooden table, “ **the future.** ” 

The man with the grizzly beard and mud-caked shoes answers the call. “Da? Da, YA na ulitse Beach v kafe.”

The words and the accent have a familiar cadence. Venom recognizes it from the time spent on the run.  **Russian after all** , he hums, a full-toothed smile bowing his mouth. 

“ **Excuse me, but I have some business to attend to** ,” Venom says, and abruptly scoops up Dan and Anne in one supernaturally tight bear hug, lifting them a little off the ground in a  tendril-extended embrace. 

_ Huh, maybe you can be taught. _

Their shocked gasps barely register. 

Venom drops them back on their feet and then spins on a heel. 

_ Hey, be a little careful, yeah? My ankles are kinda finicky. The season’s not over yet. You’re going back to Eddie soon, right? So I’ve still got to be in peak condition for the next game.  _

Rolling his eyes, Venm processes some of the massive bulk of pancakes still sitting in his stomach into energy that he then uses to heal the Host’s stupid ankle, the gashes he ruptured along shoulders in his rage, along with various other odds and ends he finds, all in the time it takes to stalk over to where the Russian’s standing up. 

The grizzly-bearded man is still picking his plate clean of waffles when Venom catches his collar with two fingers and starts dragging him away towards the hallway. 

“HEY?! What you are doing?! Do you know who am I?!” the Russian shouts, trying to jerk away. 

Once the man is bent enough to be unbalanced, Venom trips him with one tendril and smothers his nose and mouth with another. 

Dan’s gasp and the tinkle of spoons hitting tiled floor again follow them out of the main dining room as Venom drags the weakly struggling mobster into the narrow hallway and then into the men’s bathroom. 

The mobster twitches, fingers scrabbling at elastic, impenetrable skin to no avail. As the air in his lungs runs out, his grip weakens, then goes slack. 

Still Venom doesn’t lift away his tendrils.

_ Dude, what the hell? Are you trying to kill him? _

**This is a ruse. He is still conscious.**

Just then, with the last of his strength, the Russian starts to seize on the ground in an effort to dislodge the thick tendril covering half his face. He lasts almost a full desperate minute before he finally goes silent, inside and out. 

Only then does Venom release his grip and reshape the tendril so that it is thinner, more cylindrical and, without announcing his intentions, he starts to spill out of Luke and into his new Host. 

It is an uncomfortable change. 

This man, Yaroslav, is older. Craggy. His bones creak as Venom sits up. The thick beard itches and smells of grease, musk, and waffles. He’s also the first human with a gut that Venom has been in, which messes with his sense of balance for an embarrassing moment as he tries to stand and has to use the wall for support.

On the plus side, this man has intimate knowledge of human weaponry and knows his way around over three dozen poisons and their antidotes. His hunter’s instinct is divine, though, less pleasant is his apathy for life, be it human or otherwise. He lacks even a rudimentary sense of right and wrong, which Venom supposes is good for an assassin. 

But what most attracts Venom’s attention is the information Yaroslav thinks he knows about  _ him _ . 

The Russians are convinced that he is nothing more than a tool. Eddie was right about these men having seen the Life Foundation recordings of the lab tests. In them, Venom never spoke. They also managed to get their hands on shaky dashcam footage from the car chase, so their assumption is that Venom is a mindless, controllable entity that can be worn as a protective suit. They assume Eddie only ever wore him when he was in danger and that the rest of the time Venom was a corruption eating away at his sanity. 

Their working theory for the baseball game - and all the things Venom had audibly shouted - is that Eddie bet money on the game and programmed Venom to make Luke go crazy, thus earning himself enough to get out of dodge.

The tech member of Semyon’s team - Dimitri - is apparently busy right this moment trying to find an underground gambling ring that might have taken Eddie’s bet. 

If Yaroslav’s face wasn’t so unused to smiling, Venom would laugh. 

“Holy shit,” Luke says, patting at himself, “I’m me again. Except better. That healing shit you did was pure  _ magic _ . Huh, and you’re…” he looks down at Venom’s shorter Host, “...an old mobster.” 

“ **Blagodaryu vas** ,” Venom starts to say, before seeing the confusion in Luke’s face.

“Um...Venom?” he asks, hesitantly, taking a preemptive step back.” 

“ **Da. I mean, Yes** .” Venom’s face twitches, annoyed at how strong the instinct is to speak in Yaroslav’s native language. He’d never realized how much influence a Host’s language centers had over his own communication until this moment. What’s more, it’s impossible to disconnect from that area of the Host’s mind without losing control of so much more. He simply doesn’t have the precision. 

“Whoa, man, can you, like, speak Russian now?” 

“ **Speaking po** **russki is actually easier right now than English** ,” Venom grumbles. 

“Man, that’s bangin’. You could be like James Bond!” 

Venom snorts and ignores the semi-serious suggestion. “ **You’ve served well as a Host, Luke Crawford. But I have no more need of your services. This is** **proshchay** ,” he says. 

This Host’s memories show a series of goodbyes that start with a handshake-turned-half-hug with a back slap to punctuate the experience. They mostly end with the other person turning around and Yaroslav drawing a hidden gun from the back of his jeans. A gun Venom can feel right now. 

“Oh, cool. Not that I ever  _ offered _ any services, but, whatever.”

They’re trapped in an awkward, indecisive moment, until Venom decides that he doesn’t have time for this.

For all that Yaroslav drinks and eats too much, he has a lot of muscle under his fat, particularly around the arms. Yanking Luke close with just the human’s strength, Venom squeezes him in a one-armed embrace and says, “ **Go play your stupid games. It’ll make Eddie happy to see you** **vyigral** .” 

“Assuming I still have a job.” As they separate, Luke immediately goes for Anne’s wig, pulling it off his head with a look of disgust. “I swear, if my life is ruined because of you two, you better believe I’m going to show up at your door expecting you to fix it. By the way, vyigral - that means win, right? Not lose? Did your Eddie pick me because he admired me or because he hated me?” 

With another eye roll, Venom says, “ **Shut up** ,” and walks out the door. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning : there will be Venom-levels of apathy for human snacks , anger, and eating. Not terribly descriptive but there all the same. 
> 
> Also, didn't realize the "bad" part ambiguous. I regret what is probably a tone shift and the un-fun that possibly is this chapter, but needs must. 
> 
> I will say this: if you want to skip this chapter, I will write a recap in the next chapter's summary so that you're not lost. 
> 
> Also, thanks for the comments! I'll be getting to them today ^_^ If you took the time to write them, I want to take the time to respond to them ;)

 

After so long in Luke, it’s odd to see the world from a shorter perspective. 

Also, it’s suddenly too quiet in his head. 

Not that he wants Yaroslav awake. In fact, his first order of business is to suppress the Host’s conscious mind. 

Practically every memory in this human’s head is of fighting and winning, no matter the odds. Mostly because he’s willing to use any tactic necessary. It’s not a human Venom is willing to spend precious time wrangling, so he locks him away in sleep, using the man’s recent breakfast and the fat bulging his skin to supply the requisite energy. 

With that done, he strolls outside.

He can hear Eddie rambling inside the dumpster, but he ignores the muffled words lest his fury reignite. In this moment, he can’t afford its distraction. 

The Host’s memory of the phone call informs him that he should wait on the corner for a car to arrive. A sleek, black five-seater is already there waiting for him when he gets to the street. As it pulls up alongside ofhim, before the vehicle can even come to a complete stop, two men jump out. 

Gavril, the team’s muscle, and Bogdan, the sharpshooter, if memory serves. 

Artur is the man behind the wheel, who takes his sweet time polishing the rearview mirror with the end of his expensive tie before he deigns to join the rest of them on the sidewalk. He is the group’s negotiator - doesn’t like to get his hands dirty and often pretends he has elevated taste in movies, music, weapons, and women, until you get him drunk. 

It’s all useless information, but Venom pulls it up just in case. 

None of these men are Yaroslav’s friends.

Gavril and Bogdan greet him silently with chin nods that he returns. 

Being the most personable of the group, Artur looks him up and down and asks, “Wow, Yarylo, have you lost weight?” He knocks two knuckles against Venom’s stomach. 

Venom’s stare makes him uncomfortable enough that he takes a step back.

“Where is the reporter?” Artur asks with an awkward cough. 

The part of him that is Venom wants to answer in English, but the Host’s first instinct is to respond in Russian, so what comes out is a garbled mess that has all three men squinting at him. 

“Um, could you repeat?” 

It takes a solid moment for Venom to realize that the question was asked in Russian and he should answer in kind. But he’s not in the right mindset to try again. Grinding his teeth in frustration, Venom resorts to stomping over to the dumpster, releasing the tension on the lockbar, and flipping the lid with a violent push so that it hits the alley wall and stays there. 

His three “team members” take up positions around the dumpster while he takes a step back. 

As Eddie begins to stand, plastic creaking beneath his shoes, his voice gets lighter. Hopeful.  “Thanks, Ven - “ His face appears over the edge. “Oh.” His mouth goes slack, eyes widening as he takes them all in. 

“Easy way or hard way?” Artur asks, smirking as he twirls his keys around a finger. 

Immediately, Eddie’s head tilts, eyes darting up and down the alley in expectation. 

For the first time, Venom feels a pang of regret. 

The last thing Eddie heard was his anger. 

The last thing he saw was Venom’s rage twisting a stranger’s face. 

The last thing he felt was Venom literally throwing him away like so much trash. 

It’s painful to watch some of the hope slip out of Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Easy way.” 

As he’s climbing out of the dumpster, Gavril suddenly grabs him. 

It takes all of Venom’s strength to stay in place. 

And of course Eddie can’t just keep his mouth shut and follow instructions. 

**_If I had just told him the plan_ ** **, Eddie would get in the car, without trying to stall. Without still waiting for rescue.**

As Gavril kicks Eddie down the alley and then starts to drag him by the hair towards the car, Venom’s fists start to shake. Pulling deep breaths, he follows the group and tries not to look at Eddie. 

Not that it helps much. He can smell heartache coated in resigned fear on the wind as Eddie gets in the back to sit between Gavril and Bogdan. 

In the car, the smell gets so much more concentrated. 

To keep from ruining his stupid plan, Venom rolls the passenger-side window down all the way. Given his position on the team as second only to the Avtorityet, nobody says anything about it, even though the chill that seeps into the car is enough to leave some of the men shivering. 

About ten minutes into the ride, Bogdan asks, “Should we blindfold him?” 

Artur shrugs. “Might as well. There should still be one back there. Check between the seats.” 

Glancing over his shoulder, Venom sees Eddie flinch as they force him to shift into the footwell in their search for the blindfold. 

He has no idea what’s happening. Knows practically zero Russian. 

But there’s still a moment. Still a chance. If he’d just look up, maybe Venom could risk flashing his eyes.

But the moment passes, Eddie doesn’t look up, and Bogdan fits a tight, black eye mask onto Eddie’s face.

The drive is another forty minutes as they cross the bridge and drive into Oakland. Their destination, according to Yaroslav’s memories, is Warehouse705. 

In real life, it’s actually a lot less inviting than the undetailed picture in the Host’s mind. There’s graffiti on the brickwork, tacky fairy lights haphazardly strung up around the sign, and all the windows are covered in newspaper and cardboard so that no one can see the inside from the street. Just beside it is a private parking lot with a huge chain linked gate topped with barbed wire. It opens inward to allow the car through. 

As soon as the engine turns off, Eddie really starts to panic. His breathing gets short and heavy as Gavril drags him out of the car. 

“ **I’ll take him** ,” Venom rumbles, pulling Eddie away from the brute.

Gavril’s startled but doesn’t raise a protest. 

On the inside, the warehouse is another world. 

Again, Yaroslav’s memories inform him of the possible escape routes, the weapons and chemicals they have on-hand, and which drawers they’re in. 

But the rest? It’s all a blank. 

It’s almost a brand new experience walking in and finding a huge portion of the team’s work area covered in computer screens and old food containers. 

The last two members of the team are there waiting for them. 

The tech wizard, Dimitri, is fast asleep in front of the computer while the Avtorityet - Semyon Butorin, the Host’s memories supply - is standing in the middle of the room, one foot tapping impatiently. 

“Prepare the reporter for interrogation. Make sure he’s uncomfortable. I want him to sit there for a few hours, stewing in hopelessness,” Semyon says in Russian, which translates to taking Eddie into the huge soundproofed office in the corner of the warehouse furthest from all the exits. 

As he escorts Eddie to the office, Venom is struck by the sudden realization that the five men in this room are all that remains of Semyon’s other US-based teams. A dark corner of Yaroslav’s mind conjures images of four other groups their fearless leader had roped into the hunt, all of whom Venom had summarily destroyed.

The portraits of dead men plaguing Yaroslav’s repressed consciousness don’t stir any pity in him. Particularly once he sees the desk inside the soundproofed office where Semyon has arranged his favorite “toys”, ordered from brutal to gut-wrenching. They’ve all been laid out very recently, the natural oil from Semyon’s skin still fresh along the different metal instruments. 

The chair in the middle of the room is welded down to face that table. 

Venon gently guides Eddie into the seat.

They are alone in the room. 

The door is open, but none of the humans are even suspicious of Venom’s presence. They’re far enough away that they wouldn’t notice if he were to turn his face just so and show Eddie a flash of long teeth.

But Venom’s not finished “preparing Eddie for interrogation.”

It’s as he goes to handcuff Eddie’s wrists to the chair that he touches skin for the first time since he traded Luke for Yaroslav. And what he gets from the contact, once again, is Eddie considering last resorts.

_...wonder if the whole “choking to death after chewing your tongue off” method of killing yourself is just an urban legend? Or maybe I saw it in a spy movie? But, damn, that would take forever. The easier way to do it would be to antagonize Semyon into killing me quickly, before they can get any information. Or, would they be willing to let me go to the bathroom? Most bathrooms have a glass mirror, right? Or a shaving kit? Or maybe a loose bit of porcelain tiling? Or cyanide pills, unless that’s only Russian spies and not gangsters, in which case, OW! OW OW OW, FUCK, THAT HURTS… _

Venom releases his grip on Eddie’s wrists one finger at a time.

Again, he’s practically ripping through his Host, especially along the shoulders. If Yaroslav’s coat weren’t so thick with fleece lining to absorb the blood, all of the clothes along his torso would be stained red. 

Well, then. Fuck Eddie. 

He can sit here and be scared for a little while longer.

Ripping the blindfold off with a hard yank, Venom stares into Eddie’s eyes for a brief moment and bares grey, grimy teeth.  

The flinch he gets is immensely satisfying. 

So satisfying that he leaves the room with a smile - apparently, this situation is one in which this Host is used to smiling - and slams the door shut behind him. 

Time to execute his plan. 

Heh,  **_execute_ ** . 

First he needs to know just how much danger he and Eddie are in. 

If the Bratva is aware of Eddie and Venom, then getting rid of this team won’t be a permanent solution. The only way out would, in that case, be for Venom to go to Russia and for Eddie to find a safe place to hide while he deals with dangerous humans.  

Of all the members, it’s Semyon and the tech genius who will know just how far the information has spread.

Except Semyon is no longer in the main room of the warehouse. “ **Where’s the Avtorityet?** ” Venom asks.

Gavril points a thumb at the door. “Went back to the hotel for a quick nap and to get the alcohol. Said he wanted to be fresh for the interrogation. Doesn’t look too good if the boogeyman starts to yawn as he’s torturing you for answers.” 

“Wish Semyon could’ve been convinced to just let the computers find the reporter,” Bogdan mutters. “So many all-nighters in a row are murder.”

It’s with some effort that Venom squashes his reflexive laugh. 

Taking a seat next to a still-sleeping Dimitri, Venom lays his Host’s hand on the other man’s forearm. Then he carefully props Yaroslav against the table and starts to transfer himself to the sleeping techie. As he’s leaving, he eats Yaroslav’s merciless heart, munching through the meat as it throbs wetly in his mouth. 

A moment after Dimitri “wakes up”, Yaroslav tilts harder against the desk and the computer chair starts to roll away. 

Venom calmly jams a pen under one of the wheels, stopping the chair in place.

No one notices the death of their comrade. 

The answer to the question of who else knows about them is answered immediately. It’s no surprise that lust for Venom’s power and fear of being reprimanded for botching Eddie’s death prevented Semyon from reporting any of what went down in San Francisco. The Pakhan, in charge of overseeing Semyon and a few other Avtorityet’s, doesn’t know that he’s lost virtually all his men along the Western seaboard. 

Still, Venom can’t simply kill the team. That would raise red flags and prompt investigations. Venom wants their dealings with the Russians to end tonight, so he sits a moment and wanders through the wealth of information that is Dimitri’s eidetic memory until he finds a reasonable solution.

Tilting a monitor so that only he will see the display, Venom effortlessly starts dumping the foreign bank accounts of all the team members, dead and alive, into a rival Pakhan’s coffers using the code Dimitri wrote for transferring money from some poor blackmail victim or a debt-owing schmuck’s account. 

As millions upon millions of dollars - enough for a few lavish lifetimes - are being processed, Venom finds Dimitri’s dreamy conscience and wakes it just enough to weave a story for him. 

Unfortunately, it takes thirty minutes of convincing a mentally-floppy, easily-distracted Dimitri to create evidence of Todorov’s death and the requisite paper trails to fit the narrative. The only thing that saves it from being a work of a few days, if not weeks, is Dimitri’s vast experience forging documents and his own conspiracy theories about his higher-ups. 

**Can’t trust anyone these days** , Venom hums internally. 

Once that’s done, Venom makes use of Dimitri’s skills once more, to remove any and all shreds of information pertaining to Venom and Eddie with surgical precision. In fact, other than the Giants game, he also removes all references to San Francisco, since the team set up camp in Oakland. 

Hopefully, if anyone comes looking for answers, they won’t cross the bridge.

It takes another hour or so, but this team doesn’t have an overwhelming amount of information and Dimitri knows exactly where each bit is. With the handy data file-shredder that’s  installed on the server the team uses, Venom systematically destroys the few things Semyon’s paranoia had authorized saving about his Most Dangerous Game. 

With the data purge complete, a paper trial manufactured, and the team’s bank accounts emptied, Venom stands up to crack his back. Strolling a bit across the wide space, as is this human’s wont, Venom eventually ends up standing behind Bogdan, who is on his seventeenth gun from the tote he’s carried with him for over ten years.

“ **How many more?** ” Venom asks, lightening his voice as much as he can as he rests a hand on Bogdan’s shoulder.

The man cocks an eyebrow at the hand, but doesn’t shrug it off. “Twelve. Your voice sounds rusty. Are you getting sick?” Bogdan looks at the hand again, pointedly.

“ **No** ,” Venom manages to croak as he starts the transfer. 

Bogdan’s eyes begin flickering, the human struggling to regain dominion over his vocal chords, as Venom does everything to suppress him while he’s eating Dimitri’s pristine lungs. 

It’s a near thing. 

Venom barely manages to slurp his way into the sharpshooter before Dimitri starts to collapse against his back. 

This time someone notices.

“Is he okay?” Gavril asks, approaching.

Artur pauses the virtual card game he was playing and spins in his chair to look over. 

“ **Poor kid’s exhausted** ,” Bogdan says, shaking his head in sympathy.

“He was walking around just a second ago,” Gavril says. Then his eyes flick to Yaroslav. “And him?”

Bogdan shrugs. “ **Why are you asking me?** ” 

Suspicion flickers in Gavril’s eyes, fingers twitching toward the pocket where Venom can just make out the shape of a little peashooter. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Venom reaches for the nearest gun off the table.

Gavril, knowing Bogdan’s skill with a gun and the speed of his aim, leaps at him instead. 

If he were actually fighting Bogdan, this would be a reasonable thing to do. 

Since it’s Venom he’s actually attacking, the symbiote quickly snaps up a vital organ or two of Bogdan’s between razor sharp teeth before moving into Gavril through the man’s palms, which are fitted around Bogdan’s neck. 

“Holy shit, Gavril, he’s dead!” Artur says, going white as a sheet as Yaroslav falls out of the chair. 

Clambering to his feet, Venom says, “ **I know** ,” and rather than using the peashooter in his pocket, Venom grabs the silencer-fitted gun off the table.

“What are you - ” Artur starts to say.

Although Gavril doesn’t have Bogdan’s skills, at this range, he manages to get a shaken Artur between the eyes. 

“And then there was one,” Venom hums, spreading his own skin over Gavril till the man is completely covered. It feels disgusting. Wrong. He doesn’t want to touch so much of this human, but it’d be a waste to leave so much food on the table. 

He moves from body to body, snapping up the meat from Artur, Dimitri, and Bogdan, all of it still fresh enough to eat. Their heads cave with satisfying crunches, brains creamy, but firm. A bit like lumpy tofu, except with better aftertaste. 

When he’s done with his meal, Venom eyes the room critically. 

Blood everywhere, headless piles spread across different surfaces hither and yon, with Yaroslav attrofying in the corner. It’s a mess. 

He could just torch the place, but Gavril’s memories inform him that both the Fire and Police Departments are within ten minutes of the warehouse. Not long enough to char the bodies beyond recognition. 

Dead flesh is disgusting, but needs must.

He chews off the hands of the mobsters, and then sits in front of Yaroslav in repulsed indecision. If he eats the head and hands, it should be enough, but the very thought threatens to bring back up all the meat he’s eaten. Maybe if he stuffs the body with explosives, it will burn well enough?

It is as he is looking for flammables, once again wearing Gavril, that Semyon walks in. 

Though he may be a Russian mobster, Semyon’s human and the state of the room is shocking. An initial pause is understandable. 

Still, Semyon bounces quick. He chucks the bag with the Spirytus straight at Gavril’s head as his other hand reaches for his sidepiece. 

With no more need for discretion, Venom stops the hand with a tendril and tows Semyon into arm’s reach. Before Semyon can say or shout anything, Venom once again performs the maneuver of eating out his previous Host as he moves into his new one. Then he covers Semyon in his own skin to scarf down Gavril’s hands and head. 

It’s worse in Semyon. 

The rise to the top has meant clambering over a mountain of bodies, both innocent and guilty. He’s given up so many shreds of his humanity to “make something of himself.” 

And now he is Venom’s to unmake. 

Venom’s to use in order to sell the narrative that Dimitri’s counterfeit evidence will corroborate. If he’s convincing enough in his delivery, the story he helped coax Dimitri into constructing will cause turmoil within the Bratva. 

Pakhan will turn against Pakhan, their criminal cells will end up warring, and the Obshchak will be too busy trying to keep the organization from imploding to carefully oversee any in-house investigations of what Venom hopes will be called “ The California Debacle.” 

But all of that will have to wait. 

Before he sets the last ball rolling and pulls the plug on Semyon, there’s one more thing he has to do. 

Anger flickering across his skin in hot lashes, Venom reabsorbs himself back into Semyon. Flicking at the edges of his pinstripe suit to dislodge any dust, and smoothing gelled hair back, he strides across the room to stand in front of the door to the soundproofed office.

First things first. 

No matter how long it takes, Eddie will come to understand a few things about  **Their** future. Because abandoning  **Them** ? Is never going to happen again.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RECAP FROM LAST CHAPTER:  
> -Venom infiltrated Russian team in Yaroslav's body (guy from IHOP tracking mud everywhere)  
> -Killed Yaroslav & hopped into the Tech guy Dimitri  
> -As Dimitri, removed all info about Eddie and Venom (little though there was due to Semyon's paranoia) and moved all of teams $$ into rival Pakhan's account (which according to the Wikipedia gods is the next level over Semyon (probably?)) in the hopes that this will spark a war in the Bratva  
> -Then killed Dimitri and jumped into the team's sharp-shooter, Bogdan, who grappled with the strongman, Gavril.  
> -During the fight, he ate Bogdan's insides, jumped into Gavril - as him, shot the negotiator, Artur.   
> -Did his best to eat heads and hands, except for Yaroslav who was too stale.   
> -All of this took the course of a few hours, wherein Semyon was resting at his hotel.   
> -Semyon gets back, Venom eats Gavril and swaps for the last time.   
> -AND NOW HE'S HEADED IN TO SEE EDDIE, DRESSED AS SEMYON. 
> 
> Eddie has been alone for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're thinking, "but wait! this isn't the chapter that was promised?! What is this !!!" know that I was thinking it too. 
> 
> But someone asked to see Eddie's perspective, which grew a bit and took some time to write. Woops. I do have parts and bits written for the next chapter. It's semi-planned out, but no way was it going to get written in the time I had left for today. So, expect another chapter tomorrow? (Fingers crossed !_!)
> 
> ALSO, TRIGGER WARNING -- SUICIDAL IDEATION   
> Nothing graphic.  
> And, instruments of torture described?

 

As soon as the door closes, Eddie takes a series of deep breaths, desperate to slow his racing heart and calm his trembling limbs. 

Fuck, this could be his last chance. 

If he doesn’t do something right now, every terrible thought he’s had, every gruesome possibility, could come to pass. This time next week, he could be trapped in a cage somewhere getting poked with hot iron rods while Venom’s out robbing a bank or terrorizing police stations for the mob. 

But as far as he can see, his options are limited.

He’s handcuffed to a chair that’s welded to the floor inside a soundproof room that has no windows and only one door, on the other side of which is probably an army of Russian mobsters. Literally, the only bright spot in this situation is the fact that not a single one of his abductors had thought to pat him down or check his pockets. 

Eddie can feel his lockpick digging into his hip, but he doesn’t reach for it immediately. 

First, he tilts his head carefully, surveying the corners of the room, looking for cameras that might be broadcasting his every move to a captive-taking audience, but the corners are bare. If there are hidden cameras, they’re beyond Eddie’s ability to spot.

Deciding to take the risk, he shimmies in his seat, twisting his waist so that he can tease the universal lockpick out of his pocket with his cuffed hand. It takes a good couple of minutes of awkward chair wriggling, but finally,  _ finally _ , he’s got the swiss army-looking lockpick clutched in his sweaty palm. 

More deep breaths. 

If the lockpick slips out of his hand, it’s all over.

His fingers feel clumsy as they pry at the grips, shifting the picks in their casing so he can feel the ends, searching for the short hook in his pick set. 

Thanks to his wild, misspent youth, protests gone wrong, and run-ins with building security guards who took their jobs way too seriously, Eddie is very familiar with being handcuffed to things. 

It was a novelty the first time it happened back in high school. He and his friends were caught tagging a billboard and the cop handcuffed Eddie to a footbridge railing so that he’d stay put while the cop chased down the other two accomplices.

It was a dangerous nuisance the second time - an angry ex-girlfriend caught him outside during a cold, snowy night. She stopped him near the bike racks outside his apartment claiming she just wanted to talk, “get some closure.” Like a sucker, he agreed. Then, three minutes into a one-sided monologue about Eddie’s faults, she pulled a pair of fluffy, pink, fur-covered handcuffs out of her purse and, mid-conversation, snapped one end to the bike rack and the other end to Eddie. After which, ignoring Eddie’s yelling (and, let’s be honest, pleading), she strutted away, waving goodbye with her middle finger.

He’d struggled for at least an hour before the wind picked up and he realized he couldn’t feel his fingers inside his gloves. He’d started chucking little rocks from along the sidewalk at the nearest floor of windows until finally someone (probably out of fear for their glass) deigned to look outside. 

After that, he was smart enough to anticipate that, with his personality and chosen career path, there would likely be a third and a fourth and a fifth time, so he started looking into unlocking handcuffs and lockpicking in general. 

(Thank Christ! Every time he gets himself in trouble, Eddie mentally rejoices that a younger version of him had been pissed enough to learn the skill.)

So, once he finds the short hook without dropping his pick set, Eddie’s confidence rises like a helium balloon.

Putting pressure on the cuff, he verifies that he’s dealing with a pair of double-lock handcuffs since they don’t tighten against his skin. Ensuring that the bent tip of the hook is pointing away from the center of the cuffs, he inserts it into the upper cutout of the lock. Once the pick is in, he rotates and applies counter-clockwise tension to mimic the motion of a key until the double-lock gives in to the pressure. 

A satisfying click marks his success in disengaging the double-lock.

Then, carefully, palms still sweating, he pulls the hook out and reinserts it into the keyhole with the bent tip pointing towards the center of the cuffs. Rotating the hook clockwise, he then applies pressure to the single-lock until it gives in and pushes the lock bar away from the ratchet arm. 

Then just rinse and repeat on the other cuff.

And when he’s done, he gets the  _ biggest _ rush of endorphins for having freed himself.

It’s one of the best feelings in the world. Like winning one over on “the Man,” or unveiling corruption and scandal in a work of journalistic art for the whole world to see, or...spending a night on the couch watching old movies with Venom…

His momentary feelings of victory and relief plummet because, now what?

No, really, what are his choices? 

As he stands from his chair, his eyes are immediately drawn to the table. His future laid out in a series of “tools.” 

A cattle prod to shock him with unbearable volts of electricity.

A cat of nine tails whip, with metal claws on the end, all the better to dig into and rip out chunks of flesh during the beating.

Classic hammer and nails, in case the whip doesn’t catch skin in the right places. 

Pliers for the good-old-fashioned ripping of fingernails and pulling of teeth. (Called it.)

A medieval-looking thumbscrew for crushing fingers. (Called this one too.)

A power drill; an ice pick; a pack of cigarettes next to a lighter; a set of long, fine needles, a (highly disturbing) branding iron in the shape of Russian letters Eddie can’t read,  _ without _ a handy companion blowtorch for Eddie to use; a bottle of water next to a rag…

Fuck, it speaks of hours upon hours of immeasurable pain and suffering.

His heart sinks. 

He’s not an engineer or a chemist. The table before him isn’t an ingredient list for how to make a daring escape. It’s the story of how he’ll end up turning on the one being that has, by some miracle, become more important than everything else in a record amount of time. 

It’s a recipe for disaster. 

It’s almost horrifying enough to overwhelm him, so he takes more deep breaths until he’s no longer hyperventilating over a table of monstrous things. 

Then, once he’s calm enough, he perches next to the whip, forcing himself to make a list of all his options.

 

Option 1: Stay here, wait for Venom, and withstand the inevitable torture if he doesn’t arrive in time (or at all).

Option 2: Try his luck at a “One Last Stand” rush out the door, whip and cattle prod in-hand, hoping surprise and electricity will be enough to beat however many gun-toting Russians are on the other side of the door.

Option 3: Attempt to light the room on fire with the dinky cigarette lighter, particularly the padded walls at window-height, because maybe it’ll prompt an evacuation, or cause chaos in the building, or he’ll find a window underneath the charred padding.

Option 4: Take the decision out of the Russians’ hands and choose his own way to leave this world. 

 

He discards option 1 immediately, because fuck no. 

He’s not leaving Venom’s fate to chance. Without a doubt, he’ll cave to this kind of brutal torture in short order. If it was hunger, or prolonged solitude, or sleep deprivation, then there’d be more time for Venom to arrive or to think up a plan. But pure pain? Eddie knows himself well enough not to take that bet.

Options 2 and 3 are “options” because they’re technically not impossible to execute. He has the tools at hand to perform them, but the results are impossible to predict, both have a whole host of unknown variables, unknown  _ consequences _ , and are just too ridiculous to take seriously.

Which brings Eddie to option 4. 

The option he’s considered a few times already. 

Slowly, he picks up the ice pick, drawing his nail along the edge. Just that slight bit of pressure is enough to scrape away a layer. No doubt it would cut through skin like a butter knife through cream cheese. 

It’s the easiest way out. 

The  _ surest _ way out.

After rolling up the sleeve of his blue, granny cardigan, he rests the edge of the sharpened pick against his forearm. All he needs to do is press a little harder and swipe upwards in one quick motion along the vein. Then repeat on the other arm. He’s about to apply that pressure, when Venom’s face bobs into his mind’s eye. 

Before the yelling had started, and before he got angry at Eddie for seriously considering this very solution, Venom had said,  **You’re an idiot, Eddie. A pathetic, helpless loser without us. When so much is on the line, how could I** **_not_ ** **have a plan?**

It hadn’t sounded like bluff. He’d sounded confident. Just like when he’d saved Eddie from Life Foundation’s goons in the car chase.

But did Eddie’s capture throw a wrench into those plans? 

Was the plan well-formed enough to anticipate this torture room? 

Is the plan in the works right this moment, or is Venom running around town trying to find him?

Does he know where Eddie is right now? 

And if not, how long will it take him to track down this location with Luke Crawford as a tagalong, probably doing his best to talk Venom out of it because it’s  _ Russian mafiosos _ ... 

Eddie presses the edge flat against skin and immediately the ice pick raises a bubble of blood to the surface. 

**YOU WOULD TAKE AWAY** **_OUR_ ** **EVERYTHING. THOUGHTLESSLY DESTROY** **_US_ ** **ON A WHIM. KILL THE ONLY THING** **_WE’VE_ ** **EVER LOVED BECAUSE WHY?!**

With a flinch, Eddie fumbles the ice pick, nearly cutting up his arm in the process. Fuck, Venom had been so savagely angry. Luke’s skin had been splitting apart as Venom struggled to contain himself. He’d called Eddie’s option 4 a betrayal. 

Worse than lulling him to sleep under false pretenses.

Worse than leaving him to a stranger.

Worse than not saying goodbye.

Staring at the sharp edge of the ice pick, Eddie knows that this would probably be unforgivable in Venom’s eyes. A permanent abandonment. Which wouldn’t be a problem for him, given that he’d be  _ dead _ and in no need of forgiveness.

But as he tries to imagine Venom’s (possibly immortal) life after Eddie’s faithless back-stabbing and trust-breaking...the image in his head is not good. 

Very  _ bad _ , in fact.

With Venom’s carnivorous tendencies, predilection for violence, and quick temper, it’s not impossible that he’d end up becoming one of humanity’s greatest enemies. A hard core outsider once again devouring human hosts without prejudice.

It’s very possible that the ice pick in Eddie’s hand is an instrument of more than just his own fate. The realization makes the slim tool all the heavier as he raises it over his arm…

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS EVERYONE FOR ALL THE COMMENTS! IT'S BEEN SUPER HELPFUL!  
> (I'm the type of person who responds to the pressure of expectation. Sorry that it took this long. Hopefully it doesn't suck? )
> 
>  
> 
> The epilogue is the only part left. (Oh dear, please let it be short...)  
> Will be done before Thanksgiving. Because apparently I'm a chronic under-estimator. Should give myself a buffer this time...
> 
> Please feel free to let me know if there's a part in this that is really awkwardly written or too choppy! Will try my best to fix it !

 

As the door swings open, Venom resists the temptation to lick at the air that rushes out of the enclosed space, especially when he catches the barest hint of Eddie’s blood in the mix. But Eddie is fine. His heartbeat is regular; face, the usual color; eyes, a little bloodshot from exhaustion; but overall, he’s not much worse for wear. 

Still, the taste of  _ Eddie’s _ blood is unpleasant. 

He smells of human fragility. 

It’s displeasing enough that Venom stalks close and inhales deep, trying to pinpoint where the scent is coming from. The tang of copper and wounded flesh seems to rise from about the height of the chair seat. Making a reasonable assumption, he says with command in his voice, “ **Give me your arm** ,” forgetting momentarily that he strapped Eddie to the chair just a few hours earlier.

“I’m handcuffed,” Eddie answers, eyebrows raised, but his heart is racing. 

A lie. 

That’s...unexpected.

Did he leave the handcuffs loose? 

No, Venom remembers his grip was tight enough to earn a pained internal wince from Eddie. 

Were the handcuffs defective? 

Given Bogdan’s stash of expensive firepower, the new, lightning-fast computers in the other room, and Semyon’s pristine, well-kept torture tools, it’s unlikely that the Russians had anything less than tried-and-true equipment. Handcuffs included. 

The mystery is irksome, but he’s less concerned with how Eddie got free, and more with what he did with that freedom. 

Shifting his head to the side, Venom draws in more air through his nostrils, focusing on the room at large, only to encounter Eddie’s scent on the other side of the space, where he must have leaned against the table, fiddled with Semyon’s tools. 

“Wh-what do you want my arm for?” Eddie asks, trying to draw Venom’s attention back to himself. 

Probably so he won’t notice anything missing from the table. 

Well, two can play at that game. 

With a mean smile, Venom says, “ **There’s no point** **skryvat'sya. We saw vse.** ” 

Eddie doesn’t react beyond a confused eyebrow wobble. “I don’t know any Russian.”

Godammit.

Careful to keep his face neutral and free of frustration, Venom repeats slowly. “ **We. Saw. Everything.** ” 

Eddie’s breathing skips. On a wheeze, he asks, “Wh-what do you mean?”

“ **We. Saw. What. You. Did.** ”

“Oh y-yeah? What did I do?” Eddie retorts, but his confidence is a quivering mess . 

Venom takes a step back, rests his hand where the ghost of Eddie remains. He offers only the implication of knowledge, without detail or explanation.  

That Eddie doesn’t ask more questions is telling. He’s nervous for lack of experience with life-threatening situations, and his vibrant (overactive) imagination only serves to increase his stress. 

In a cheated tone, Eddie asks, “Where’s the camera?” as his eyes dart to the corners of the room. 

“ **Lots of little kamery, here and there. We saw you take** ,” Venom guesses, tapping on the table behind him. After all, Eddie had to have damaged himself with  _ something _ and the bare room is, by design, low on options.

“Really? So, what did I take?” Eddie challenges. 

It doesn’t strike Venom as an odd question, mostly because he’s wondering the same thing. Venom’s not sure he remembers what was on the table when he saw it originally, but he looks over at the spread of tools anyway. As he focuses on the flat, wooden surface, searching for the imprint of a missing tool, there’s a rush of air behind him. He turns in time to see Eddie barrelling towards him, brandishing a long, thin, shiny piece of metal. 

Eddie doesn’t register as a threat in any context, which is why Venom’s reflexes don’t kick in until the last second. He only just manages to raise his arm in time, catching the point of the odd knife with the heel of his hand before it can tear through his neck. The point slides through muscle and stops at bone.

Wide-eyed, Eddie tries to recover the tool, but Venom rips his hand away, point still stuck in deep. 

Desperate, Eddie throws himself at the table in a blind grab for any weapon.

**Nyet, not today.**

Catching Eddie about the waist, Venom easily hoists him onto a shoulder and carries him the three steps across the room.

“ **Sit** ,” Venom growls, practically throwing Eddie into the chair. 

He looks so scared. 

Venom can almost feel his panic, along with his  _ despair _ . 

Brows knotted in regret for having blundered the opportunity to murder Semyon, Eddie stares at the stupid knife still stuck in Venom’s hand.

Since he’s disconnected from the Host’s sensory system, Venom can’t feel the pain of having metal speared into his flesh. Without flinching (and fully aware of how uncanny humans find it) he pulls the knife out in a slow, deliberate motion, as if savoring the wet, agonizing slide.

The way Eddie cringes in his seat, horrified by the sight, is absolutely enthralling.

Venom’s almost tempted to push the blade back in again to see if Eddie balks at the action. Would that be cruel? But then, it’s not the only cruel thought in his head right now. After all, he recognizes the other facets of Eddie’s expression. 

He’s seen it before. 

“ **Let me guess. If you couldn’t kill me, you were going to kill yourself** ,” Venom says, tossing the dinky knife back onto the table.

Startled, Eddie admits to his plan with an aborted nod, which he tries to turn into a shoulder-chin-rub. 

“ **You can be** **chestnyy** ,” Venom says, even as he reminds himself to relax. Not to overreact.  _ He _ holds the power in this situation. There’s no way for Eddie to kill himself while they’re together like this, both in full possession of their faculties in this intimate, little room. He wants answers and realizations from Eddie, which he won’t get if he lets his rage get the best of him. So, he offers calmly, “ **You can admit** **vash plan dolzhen byl umeret.** ”

“Uh, no offense, Semyon, but your English isn’t what it used to be,” Eddie says, with forced lightness. If he’s trying to spark a violent reaction, it’s a weak attempt. 

Still, it’s annoying. 

He doesn’t need Eddie pointing out the obvious. 

“ **Pretty. Boy. Should. Shut. Up. Unless. He. Has. Something. Useful. To. Say,** ” Venom grinds out.

Swallowing hard, Eddie nods his head obediently. Venom can almost see him mentally switching tactics.

“ **Glupyy, zhalkiy idiot** ,” Venom mutters. But Eddie is his  _ irreplaceable _ stupid, pathetic idiot. And he needs to realize it once and for all. So, Venom pushes. “ **Your plan was to die, da?** ” 

When Eddie doesn’t immediately answer, Venom kicks the edge of the chair seat, right between Eddie’s knees in clear threat.

“O-okay, yes! Yeah, that was the plan. Either I’d pick you guys off, one by one, using the doorframe as a bottleneck and escape, or I’d die in the process.” 

“ **Pochemu?** ”

Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch, confused.

“ **Why?** ” Venom repeats, this time listening to himself speak, ensuring each word is English. “ **There’s no reason for you to die.”**

Eddie shakes his head, as if Venom may as well be speaking Russian. “You guys started chasing me, even though Todorov gave me almost nothing to work with. You  _ tried to kill me _ the first time we met. It’s not like I  _ want _ to die! You’ve just made it very clear it’s the only option. I’d just rather do it my way, than wait to suffer your sadistic plans for me.”

Venom scoffs. “ **So, you are a coward.** ”

“I’m practical.”

“ **Craven** ,” Venom says, checking that, yes, it is an English word.

Eddie looks pointedly at the table behind Venom with all the instruments of torture. “Says the man who can only face me if I’m tied up.”

“ **Says the man who got caught after less than 48 hours without an alien superbeast to protect him.** ”   

“Don’t pretend you found me on your own,” Eddie says with surprising spirit, fear giving way to anger.

“ **True. You were betrayed, da? By the symbiote** ,” Venom taunts, slowly sauntering across the room, back towards the table. 

Venom can almost see Eddie mentally trying to work out how Semyon might know about what went down in the alley, but it’s the digital age. Everything can be explained with technology. 

Someone with a video phone on a different floor might have been secretly filming it, or a dashcam feed on a passing truck could have been tilted sideways enough to catch their confrontation in the alley, or Yaroslav could’ve overheard about the aftermath inside the IHOP. There are so many possibilities that Eddie doesn’t spend too much time contemplating how Semyon knows.

Tone resigned, he finally mutters, “It wasn’t betrayal.” It’s as if now that they’re discussion has shifted to Venom, he expects the torture to begin.

Absentmindedly Venom strokes two blood-tipped fingers of his still bleeding hand over the power tool, caressing the drill bit. So many stupid human tools - his new proximity to them is making Eddie’s palms sweat. 

Because without Venom, he is vulnerable. 

Any one of these pathetic human utensils could cause irreparable damage to him. 

It’s... **_maddening_ ** , that they’re in this situation. 

That Eddie couldn’t be trusted with protecting his own life, so Venom was forced to bring him into the lion’s den. 

And even in this padded room, chained to a chair, Eddie found a way to hurt himself, though the wound staining the edge of a rolled cardigan sleeve looks thankfully small. Whatever it was that stayed Eddie’s hand, Venom is grateful.

But all of this could’ve been avoided. 

Weeks back, when Venom was getting low on energy, they could’ve broken into a grocery store and eaten their way through the aisles until Venom had recharged, and continued street-battling the Russians. 

Or they could’ve had a discussion about the problem and found a way to fix it together. 

Yes, Eddie’s own mental state had deteriorated as hunger, sleep deprivation, and muscle exhaustion took their toll, but that doesn’t make this situation any less stupid. 

They still shouldn’t be here like this. 

It’s not all Eddie’s fault. 

Venom accepts the part he played to bring them here. 

He’d felt Eddie’s doubts. Had known they existed, even before the Russians, and he’d been willing to wait for time and experience to erase them. 

Now, he realizes that he should’ve made sure Eddie knew that Venom’s tie to him was permanent. 

He is not human.

He cannot simply “love again.”

He cannot be “cured” of his “fixation” on Eddie the way obsessive humans are treated by therapists. 

It is now in his nature to need Eddie. Without him he would likely be left with only two paths. Either to wither away in the hopes of finding Eddie in a world beyond this one, or devolve into a mindless creature, angry with the world and bent on its destruction.

Eddie, he knows, doesn’t believe the consequences of their relationship are anywhere near that extreme. 

Which makes Venom wonder, “ **If not betrayal, what was it?** ” he asks. “ **How do you explain your presence here?** ” Because Venom would really love to know. If Eddie doesn’t believe Venom’s feelings are immutable, then how did he interpret being handed over to their enemies?

Wanting to hear what Eddie really thinks, rather than what he’d say to Semyon, Venom circle’s the chair to stand behind it and fits his hand so that his fingers form a loose, bloody half-circle around Eddie’s neck.

_ God, I’m fucked. _

Eddie subtly tilts toward the door, his head full of wishes and theories - that Venom may have tracked him here, might be right outside the building, prepared to allow the Russians to make Eddie suffer before he swoops in to save the day, or he might be across the city, cursing his tantrum as he desperately tries to track him down. 

Venom almost snorts.  **A tantrum.** That Eddie can even imagine him being so careless with what is most precious to him...Oh, they have so much to discuss. They won’t be leaving this room until Eddie has no more doubts. (Hopefully the bodies in the next room over don’t start to smell before that happens.)

Out loud, with a noncommittal shrug, Eddie says, “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“ **So, he took your picture and posted it online with a geolocation tag** **_by mistake_ ** **?** ”

Eddie shrugs again.

“ **Most people try to make up for their mistakes. Is that the case with alien symbiotes? Tell me, is he coming to rescue you?** ”

“He doesn’t owe me a rescue. Just because I think he made a mistake doesn’t mean he agrees.” 

Venom feels an honest echo of this thought in Eddie’s mind. Letting go to avoid crushing Eddie’s neck in his agitation, Venom curls his hands into fists, letting his own claws dig into Semyon’s palms as he recircles the chair. 

_ Needing _ to see Eddie’s eyes.

**Because how can he believe that?!**

“ **Is that how you see it?** ” Venom tries not to hiss in furious reproach. “ **You make it sound like there’s nothing between you and...the symbiote. As if you wouldn’t mind if you never saw him again.** ”

“Because that’s the truth,” Eddie says, firm and clear, as if willing Semyon to believe him. 

“ **Great, then you won’t mind helping us find him. Give us the location of the symbiote and I will let you go free** ,” Venom promises, because it’s so satisfying to see Eddie freeze. “ **If the symbiote means nothing to you, tell us where he is.** ”

This deal throws Eddie into an obvious tailspin. 

Venom assumes he’s probably considering possible locations to give, how to explain his knowledge, what he’ll say when Venom isn’t at those locations and it becomes obvious that he’s been stalling.

Because of course he’ll take the deal. It’s the only logical thing to do.  Whether to stall for time, or discover a new escape route, or (Eddie’s favorite solution, apparently) find a way to off himself, he should take the deal.

But for Venom, this is another opportunity to see how Eddie’s mind works in this atypical situation. Any kernel of information that potentially helps him predict Eddie, anything that helps him guess Eddie’s actions and reactions, is useful. And, admittedly, he wants to hear Eddie try to convince Semyon that they really are nothing to each other. Wants to hear just how far he’ll go to deny Venom. It’s the line of questioning Venom plans to tackle next. 

Taking a knee in front of Eddie, Venom cups his chin, tracing a thumb along the bristly curve. “ **Give him to me and I’ll set you free** ,” Venom offers again, ready to catch the thoughts behind the lies. 

What he does not expect is for Eddie to rear his head back and spit in Venom’s face.

Literally, spit. 

Right after which, he yells, “Like hell! You’re not getting your hands on him! EVER!”  

What is Eddie  _ thinking _ ? It’s so far out of left field, that Venom pauses, unsure how to proceed. He has no words. And, in his bewildered state, Venom reflexively licks the spit off the Host’s high cheekbone. 

Where no human tongue could reach. 

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock.

“Holy shit...V-Venom? Oh my god, you  _ fucking _ asshole! I can’t believe you!”

Venom just manages to avoid getting kicked in the face.

Then they’re suddenly both standing, toe to toe, and Eddie is screaming at him. “What the hell, Venom?! Why would you fuck with me like this?!” 

“ **_Why_ ** **?!** ” Venom growls, starting to coil like kudzu over the frame of the Host, coming to the surface. 

The Host is tall.

Venom is taller. 

Looming over Eddie, saliva dripping from his teeth, Venom roars, “ **DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO WAKE UP INSIDE A STRANGER?!** ” Eddie starts to recoil, but Venom’s claws hook his musty cardigan. “ **DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE ABANDONED BY THE BEING YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT?** ” Venom lifts Eddie up, tendrils holding his weight so that they’re eye to eye. “ **YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?!** **_I_ ** **WANT TO KNOW WHY!  I HAVE BEEN** **_DESPERATE_ ** **TO HEAR WHY!** ” He shakes Eddie once, sharply. “ **BUT YOU HIDE THINGS FROM ME! AND YOU NEVER LISTEN** .” Another sharp jerk. 

Then he drops Eddie onto unsteady feet. 

Venom’s heaving deep, train-engine inhales, skin rippling with agitation. 

With raised hands, Eddie says softly, “Seems like we have some things to talk about.”

“ **More than a few** ,” Venom rumbles, glaring at Eddie.

“I promise to listen,” he says.

“ **You don’t need to listen. I can show you** ,” Venom tells him, offering a hand. It’s up to Eddie to take it. 

And, without hesitation, he does. 

  
  
  
  


As soon as he touches Venom, he wants to let go. It’s overwhelming. Eddie’s never been sucked into a tornado, but he imagines this is what it would feel like. Goosebumps cover his arms. His nerves feel lit. For a long moment, he can’t breathe.

He holds on, gripping with all his strength, since it won’t hurt Venom. It’s not an option to let go. If they’re going to move past this together, he has to withstand whatever gets thrown at him.

Venom rages once again,  **YOU SPEAK AS IF THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS. WHETHER WE ‘MOVE PAST THIS’ OR NOT, WE WILL ALWAYS BE TOGETHER. NO OTHER OPTIONS EXIST** . 

He shouldn’t point it out. It won’t do any good. 

But they’re connected. His stray thought that, You’re  _ in  _ someone else  _ right NOW _ , has already reached Venom. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t blow up. 

There’s still anger in the rumbling inside Eddie’s head, but it’s subdued when Venom asks,  **Does quality of life mean nothing to you?**

And then it’s as if he mentally drops Eddie, straight into a memory. 

 

Eddie relives Venom’s experience of slowly coming awake and immediately noticing the temperature is wrong. It’s odd seeing through Venom’s eyes as they come open. More detailed, but the details are different. 

Inside a body where there is no light and little room, Venom lies entwined amidst organs that are all manner of shades. The depth perception is so precise that Venom can visually tell that the thickness and size are wrong, but he can feel it too. The organs he’s resting against touch different parts of the cord of his body. 

Everything about these surroundings is  _ wrong _ . 

Distressed, he tries to reach Eddie, but it’s like screaming into a void. There’s nothing on the other side. The connection is severed. 

Panicked, he hooks into the Host in a way he’s never had to do with Eddie and asks again,  **Eddie?**

The body around him seizes. Hands grip the sides of a head, clapping over ears. “What was that?” the Host asks his friends.

**You’re not Eddie** , Venom realizes, and still it steals over him slowly because shock holds him suspended over a cavern of devastation. Disbelief is his parachute down into the thick of the truth. That Eddie has left him. 

**_EDDIE ABANDONED HIM_ ** .

Eddie can’t describe the feeling that follows. 

Only that it’s raw. For a moment, it’s like the world is ending for Venom. Everything is suddenly shattered and painful. But Venom is not a being who wallows. Once the feelings have been felt, the realization comes that Eddie must still be alive. That Eddie must have purposely done this. And all that writhing hurt quickly transforms into fury.

Taking control of the Host with ease, Venom fortifies the Host’s vocal chords and roars, “ **EDDIE!** ” 

All the humans in vicinity jump back, away from him. 

Good, it clears a path. 

He takes a moment to taste, to listen, to try and find, but this place is still too much a mess of human noise. 

It’s infuriating. 

This body doesn’t move like Eddie’s. He stumbles forward the first two steps, getting used to how quickly he can cover a greater distance. This stupid, narrow tunnel. All these stupid gaping humans. Hoping he’ll have better luck in open air, he rushes out onto the field.

But it’s almost a valley of collecting smells, and the scent of the bay and all its detritus is stronger at the proximity. 

There’s so much rage mounting - from the new surroundings, from the noise and the smells, from the feeling that he’s behind, needs to catch up, Eddie can’t have gotten far - that Venom uses his own voice, so much deeper, letting it boom from this Host’s barrel chest, “ **I WILL FIND YOU, EDDIE!** ” 

It takes everything in him to resist tearing through this Host or, at the very least, spilling over him. He’d be bigger that way. The Host’s already quick body parts would be faster. But the only way back to Eddie is secretly. To reveal himself means to suffer labs and poking and prodding, and probably the permanent loss of Eddie. 

That doesn’t mean he has to remain here, in this situation, though. 

He needs out of the valley.

And oh, look, what a handy fence…

He throws his bulk onto it and begins to climb, heaving lungfuls of air through his mouth, tasting for Eddie as it goes in to fill his chest. In a mix of rage and determination, he roars again, “ **AND WHEN I DO, I WILL WIND MYSELF INTO EVERY CREVICE OF YOUR BEING! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER THOUGHT THAT I DON’T KNOW ABOUT!** ” 

It’s a vow. 

One that Eddie can feel V still intends to keep. 

He swallows hard, briefly reminded that he is not actually Venom. Only reliving this devastating moment as him. But the memory rises up again to swallow him back into the experience as, from the fence, Venom tastes him on the wind. Venom feels the first spark of confidence that he  _ can _ return to Eddie. He’s close enough to catch him. To leap into the stands and force his way back where he belongs. 

And so he tries.

Throwing himself towards the stadium seating, practically blind in his single-minded quest wherein Eddie is the GOAL, Venom leaps from chair to chair, honing in on a location.

But the same direction tastes of sauerkraut, cigarettes,  pâté , and vodka. He finds a few of the mobsters in the crowd and the situation becomes clear. 

If they see Eddie now, Eddie will die. 

Without Venom, he is vulnerable to bullets and fists and tripping down stairs. He’s so unprotected that Venom feels terror ripple through him. And in that distracted moment, he briefly loses control of the Host. 

The man inside him - Luke Crawford - begins to fight. Wrestling limbs away from Venom at a slightly quicker pace than Venom can regain control. 

The result is a stilted, jerky stroll through the bleachers away from Eddie and the mobsters who are so close to finding him. Venom’s fear skyrockets as the distance between him and Eddie increases, which makes his control even more tenuous. 

The only blessing is that many of the mobsters start to follow him into other parts of the stadium. He swears, he will find a way to trap and eat them.

The Host hears him and recoils in revulsion. 

It’s all Venom needs to regain control. 

There’s so much energy in this well-fed, well-maintained body, that it’s easy to corral the mobsters towards a maintenance closet. A semblance of a plan emerges. He’ll eat the mobsters in the closet, fill up on energy, find Eddie, and come back to him more powerful than he’s been in weeks. 

But Eddie needs to wait for him. 

And he will wait for him, right? 

They belong together.

They  _ need _ each other.

But does  _ Eddie _ know that?

Does Eddie share this desperate feeling?

He must be standing near something that connects to the stadium speakers, because when he makes his desperate request, “ **DON’T RUN FROM ME, EDDIE! Please…** ” it echoes through the stadium. 

Hundreds of faces turn to him.

Not a one of them belongs to Eddie. 

Because Eddie is already gone. 

 

Eddie is pulled from the memory like a fish out of water. He’s gasping, a shattered feeling still trapped in his chest. 

Venom pulls him close, wrapping him in warmth. It’s everything he needs, and everything Venom didn’t get after that moment. 

“I’m sorry, V,” Eddie says miserably. 

He can feel Venom sifting through Eddie’s thoughts, pulling at threads and examining them. “You are, Eddie. Sorry, but still not convinced.” 

“Huh?” Eddie tries to pull away to look at Venom, but V’s grip doesn’t let up. 

“ **You are sorry for surprising me with abandonment, but you still don’t believe me when I say you are my only Host. You don’t believe me when I say I** **_need_ ** **you. That to be without you is impossible.** ”

Eddie hums into a pitch black shoulder. “I mean, you’re wearing Semyon. You can obviously survive with other Hosts. You  _ don’t _ need me. You just...think you do?” Wincing a bit at Venom’s grip, Eddie doesn’t take the words back, because they’re the truth and Venom knows it. 

  
  


Without warning, he’s dropped into feelings not his own. 

The Mafioso Hosts are all sticky, grimy, gross after years of bad habits, and all their memories are tinged with bitterness, solitude, back-stabbing. 

All the alcohol is to forget. 

All their ‘good times’ are followed by apprehension. 

It’s cold in these bodies. Like wearing someone’s chilled, overused, dirty clothes.

 

The beings back in the lab are hardly worth mention. 

The bunny had felt soft, fluffy inside and out, and so incredibly scared. There was only room for simple emotions in its mind. 

The series of lab techs he’d been given to eat had all been rather similar in their thought patterns. Very logical beings, not given to strong emotions, clever and full of useful information, but they’d been too sterile for Venom to tolerate for long, and admittedly, he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind back then. In his anger, he’d been more interested in devouring his first few hosts.

The week he’d spent inside the homeless woman, Maria, had also been useful. He’d tolerated wearing her because her mind was vibrant and eclectic. Complex enough that her terror was a delicious treat worth savoring. And it was the first time he’d bothered to sift through memories, learning about more of life outside his prison, of the creatures he would have to choose from.

Cruel ones that kicked or called Maria names.

Fluffy ones that sniffed, walked on four legs, and had pointed teeth. 

Young ones that stared with big eyes and said stupid, obvious things.

And, in her mind, he found Eddie. 

With mild curiosity, he examined the memories of a kind man who looked her in the eye, spoke to her with respect despite her situation, gave her more money than she asked for out of generosity, joked with her to make her smile as if she was a friend in a time in her life where she had none. 

But Venom had no great feelings about Eddie then. Her light infatuation with a stranger in a leather jacket had been nothing more than a tasty bit of emotion to feed from.  

There had been a moment in the lab, after Eddie had freed Maria, where Venom could’ve chosen differently. He could’ve bitten off Eddie’s head and escaped as Maria. After all, he knew she was a reasonable Host. Her mind was tolerable. She knew a lot about staying hidden, escaping others’ notice.

But, through the hands that choked Eddie’s neck, without ever having been inside Eddie, Venom had already felt a spark of connection. 

One that he’d denied for days on end. 

One that he’d distracted himself from with thoughts of returning to his planet. 

One that, despite his neglect, couldn’t be forgotten or ignored after he lost Eddie the first time.  

 

As far as Hosts went, Luke Crawford had not been too poor a choice.

Luke’s body was powerful. He had a friendly inner voice. He made for a good tool. Besides that, there had been no connection between them. 

Not the human kind of connection, Eddie finally realizes. Not that loose word for people who get along and share similar ideas about the world. Connection in Venom’s mind means something  _ more _ . Something alien. Something beyond what Eddie can feel as a human. 

Perhaps something more molecular, or spiritual. 

It’s hard to describe, but the idea of connection does seem to mean,  **Only one** . 

 

The last Host on Venom’s list is Anne.

Anne was strong-willed. Her thoughts were familiar to Venom. Followed the beat of a similar drum because she too has Goals. She moves ever forward, no matter what opposes her. She does not back down from challenge. 

Venom can work seamlessly with Anne when their Goal is the same. To protect and save Eddie, working together was no hardship.

She is a wonderful being. One Venom can appreciate. 

**BUT THERE IS NO CONNECTION.**

**Can be no connection ever again, because Venom has Eddie.**

**And Eddie is** **_perfect_ ** **.**

Not a perfect human. Just perfect for Venom.

 

The contrast is almost startling as Eddie experiences for the first time what being together feels like to Venom. 

Fuck, but it’s wonderful.

Like what every kid ever wanted Home to feel like. 

Warm, cozy, loving, supportive, without judgement, full of so much damn happiness. 

All those stupid moments they’ve shared over the past few months suddenly seem like so much  _ more _ . 

Eddie had overlooked the depth in their interactions. 

He never knew how much Venom enjoyed their constant, open dialogue or how appealing his own loneliness was to Venom because it meant there was a hole for V to fill where others have family and friends. A different human would tire of constant chatter, frequent questions, morbid jokes, and background narration. A different human wouldn’t get upset if Venom was quiet for days on end. Would likely prefer the break from forced interaction with an alien. 

Eddie never knew how much his open-mindedness mattered to Venom. Hadn’t taken the time to ponder what V’s life would’ve been like if he’d gotten dropped into a human that would fall to pieces over the realization that the symbiote inside them would happily eat other humans, as long as they were fresh. Or how big a problem body horror could be with the wrong Host. 

**Lab techs** , Venom hisses, teeth lengthening. 

Eddie gently smooths a thumb over V’s wrist, and can feel Venom’s shock of pleasure at the easy contact. 

Not too different from the shock of warmth inside Venom whenever Eddie gripes at him for leaving a mess in the kitchen or waving around wet tendrils or messing with Eddie in a dozen little ways. Because Venom  _ enjoys _ being so fearlessly challenged over stupid everyday bullshit. He likes that Eddie’s subconscious mind never raises little warnings to remind the frontal lobe of Venom’s teeth, or his height, or his bulk, or the countless ways he can make himself stronger than any human Host. 

Which is why the next memory is brutal. 

Like knives against softened skin. 

Venom shoves two fingers in Eddie’s mouth so that when he bites down from the pain he doesn’t damage any of his own soft, human tissue. 

He uses those fingers like a hook to turn Eddie’s head so that he’s looking up at V.

“ **That’s what it feels like to repeatedly be faced with your willingness to steal from me** ,” Venom rumbles out loud, his whole body a vibration against Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t have to ask Venom what he means by that. For the first time, he understands just how much Venom feels that they belong to each other. It’s the reason Venom defers to Eddie. Why he treats Eddie’s wishes as his own. Why he uses We and Us to refer to Them. 

It’s not that Venom sees them as the same being. 

In Venom’s mind, they are aligned. Inextricably connected. All that is Venom belongs to Eddie, and all that is Eddie belongs to V. 

So, for Venom, each time Eddie had considered taking his own life, it had been not so different from contemplating theft. And that’s the most generous way Venom is able to phrase it. Deeper down the connection between them, Eddie can feel how parts of Venom consider it so much worse than that. 

Those mental paths are paved with blood. 

Murder, mutually assured destruction, and death of all that ever was or could have been beloved live down that way in technicolor. 

Eddie is willing to walk those paths, but Venom stops him. 

“ **More important than to see is to feel** ,” Venom says. Again, he gives Eddie the choice, waiting for Eddie’s nod before opening the door.

_ Oh, mother of... _

It’s another layer of gut-wrenching, life-altering throes of torment. 

There’s agony howling in Eddie’s head, in his blood. How had he been so blind? How had he thought that killing himself would leave Venom unscarred? Able to walk away with another Host?

Fuck, it really is unthinkable. 

It’s not just someone torching the feeling of Home.

It’s a severed and burnt out connection. It’s the end of all feelings associated with  _ Home _ . It’s a broken mental path that can’t be fixed or restructured. 

The hollow being that would be Venom-after-Eddie could never come back from that. 

“ **I was willing to wait for you to realize all this on your own, so I granted you small measures of solitude. Room to be your own being. Room to have thoughts I didn’t hear, memories I didn’t see. In deference to your humanity, I left parts of our connection unfulfilled. Did not push too many of my thoughts in your direction, simply left them out in the open for you to find. But you did not explore.** ”

There’s another vibration that travels through both of them as Venom slowly removes his fingers from Eddie’s mouth. 

“ **I gave you room for long enough, Eddie. You are MINE. And I’m no longer willing to wait for the rest of you. So, close the gap** ,” Venom growls, pulling Eddie off the ground so that he’s on level with sharp needle teeth. 

It’s not the least bit intimidating. 

Because even now, Venom is giving him the choice. 

Rather than breach the gap Eddie can now feel on the inside - the one that exists between all that is Venom and all that is Eddie - Venom is _asking_. This “connection” is an alien thing that only Venom really has control over. There’s nothing Eddie can do to make their connection stronger or weaker. And yet, Venom is waiting for Eddie to grant permission. 

Hugging Venom tight, he says, “Close the gap.” 

V takes a moment, rifling through Eddie’s head like he’s making sure that their connection finally makes sense to Eddie. That there’s no misconceptions about what kind of commitment a fully-formed connection is. 

“I really do get it V,” Eddie promises.

“ **Good** .” 

Venom sinks deeper into Eddie’s thoughts. And as the connection threads together, Venom closes a different gap, teeth retracting as he finds Eddie’s mouth with his own. 

He licks in, draws his tongue around Eddie’s and slowly coaxes it into the cavern of his own mouth. It’s wet and so hot that the stupid granny cardigan starts to feel unbearable against Eddie’s skin. 

No surprise, Venom strips it off of him without breaking the kiss. 

Without the button-up sweater in the way, too long fingers trace every inch of uncovered skin they can reach.

It's still not enough. And, frustratingly, Eddie has no idea what would _be_ enough. Maybe if Venom were to get closer, absorb into him, expand inside of him...

The sudden clank of metal hitting concrete startles Eddie enough to realize where they are and, on the heels of that thought, just how little he knows about the situation they’re currently in. 

Like, are there really cameras in here? 

Are there mobsters outside the door? 

How long have they even been inside this room?

“We should get out of here,” Eddie says, in between pants.

Even though they’re not touching, Eddie can feel Venom’s belabored sigh. 

“What, you don’t want to go home?” 

Venom licks the side of his face with his ridiculous tongue.  **Of course I do. But there’s more to be done before We can go Home.**

“Like what?”

Venom sighs again, as he reabsorbs into Semyon. “ **Priyti** ,” Venom says, holding out a hand to help Eddie off the table. 

This time, Eddie hears the Russian, but understands that V’s asking him to “come.”

“I’m not a dog, y’know,” Eddie complains, clambering off the torture table. (When did he even get _on_ the table?) 

Venom just pats his head, internally cackling.  **My pet** .

_ Asshole _ .

**Idiot** .

_ Is it immature to use a newly formed telepathic connection to exchange insults? _

Venom kisses his forehead with Semyon’s lips, which is all kinds of weird Eddie doesn’t want to think about. **Just another reason we fit together.**

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the end, a few questions answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word count on google docs said this was 3k and there's a bit left. To avoid having an unbalanced end chapter, I split it in two. Also, this flows well enough from the previous chapter, so c'est la vie. Next part let's say will come out Friday, just to avoid rushing through the last stretch. Hopefully this doesn't all read like filler. Figured it would answer some questions?
> 
> If you're wondering what Semyon looks like, you can find the fanart Extremely (AO3 handle) so masterfully drew on either my tumblr or twitter. 
> 
> Also, thanks for everyone's comments! They've been so helpful. Also, if you feel like chiming in, I have two story ideas. Wanted to know if they'd be worth writing:   
> \- 1st one should be short-ish , more humor(?) and only a minor AU, still in universe with the original movie. Venom escapes as a bunny. Eddie got fired & dumped, and became a vlogger. I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say they meet in the forest where Eddie is failing at camping. 
> 
> \- 2nd one, would be longer, more complex, AU set in the future where the Earth is no longer viable and the Life Foundation is shipping off to "more fertile grounds" with a crop of Earth's best and brightest human resources. -- if that's not enough to seem interesting, I can provide further detail, although that could be a bit of a spoiler? Suffice it to say, these more fertile grounds are uninhabitable to people, which is why they need to merge with the planet's natural inhabitants.

 

As Eddie goes to turn the handle so that they can exit the torture room, Venom suddenly lays a hand over his arm to stop him. 

“Um, yes?” 

Venom’s grin is a bit crooked as he says, “ **I think you should close your eyes.** ”

“What did you do?” Eddie asks, eyebrows climbing. 

“ **What do you think?** ” Venom asks, flashing needle teeth.

Staring at the door in sudden apprehension, he asks, “Did you eat them whole or leave…”

“Too many to eat whole,” Venom says, shrugging. “Ate heads and hands. Harder to identify that way.” 

It’s an incredible trial to keep from picturing it. Shuddering, Eddie asks, “So, what, you’re going to lead me through a room of dead bodies?”

Venom shrugs. “ **Why not? You can wait for me outside while I deal with the mess.** ”

“Deal how?”

“ **Send a video recording to Semyon’s Pakhan. Then set everything on fire.** ”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not even dark out, is it? The abduction happened early this morning. No way am I waiting outside. I’ve got enough problems without people reporting to the police later that they saw me at the scene of an arson before the fire started.”

Venom hums unhappily. “ **You will have nightmares.** ” 

“I was an investigative reporter, and now I’m an investigative journalist. I’ve been to crime scenes. There’s nothing to worry about.”

When Venom finally lets him open the door, there’s not a hill of bodies like he’d been imagining. In fact, there’s only five. Still, he keeps his gaze unfocused, skimming over the details of the room and mostly not looking at the floor.

Venom does some gentle steering, a hand on either side of Eddie’s hips, making sure he doesn’t trip. He stops them at a huge monitor and suddenly pushes Eddie to the ground with tendril force applied to his shoulders. “ **Stay down so you don’t show up in frame** ,” he says, opening a video recorder application on the computer. 

With a sigh, Eddie complies, letting his gaze shutter, because from this angle the sight of the dead bodies is a thousand times more grizzly. 

Above him, Venom starts the video with something suitably dramatic. “ **We have been betrayed. We asked for Pakhan Anatoly’s help in a turf war with one of the local gangs. He sent us a few of his teams and at first they seemed willing to work with us. We welcomed them and gave them access to our accounts, resources, information, weapons. However, as the weeks progressed, it became clear that they were working against us. Expensive machinery started to go missing. Our monetary resources were being spent too quickly and when Artur went to check our accounting records, there was a huge discrepancy. We confronted Pakhan Anatoly’s teams and were met with violence. The last few weeks have been bloody. I should have told you sooner.** ” 

He goes on to list evidence, of accounts and money transfers, implicating the rival Pakhan in decimating Semyon’s Pakhan’s teams and resources. 

Which is all fine. Create a narrative that pits mob members against each other. Foster mistrust and controversy, make the Bratva implode from the inside.  Sure, good idea. 

Eddie’s on board with all of that.

The part he isn’t on board with is when Venom finishes the recording with, “ **I will be returning to Russia immediately to present my findings in person, but in case anything should happen to me before I reach you, I wanted you to know Anatoly’s envy of your meteoric rise within the Bratva has already resulted in countless deaths. Beware Pakhan Anatoly.** ”

Eddie doesn’t ask immediately, watching instead as Venom sends the message, then goes off to sniff out the gasoline and gunpowder they’ll be using to decimate this place.

Maybe it was just a false promise to the Pakhan? 

One he doesn’t intend to keep?

Because that would be crazy, right? Going to Russia would be dangerous and risky. They only just managed to contain the situation. 

Venom comes back with the materials he’d gone looking for. He sets a case of bullets on the ground and hands Eddie a gas can, but doesn’t fully let go. “ **If you have a question, ask me.** ”

“We’re not actually going to Russia, right?” Eddie blurts out.

“ **No. Not we. I will go to Russia alone. Need to make sure the lie worked. If anyone still needs convincing, I will convince them.** ”

Eddie almost drops the gas can. “Wait, no! You can’t! If they find out about you-”

“ **They won’t. After I’m sure they’ve bought the narrative, I’ll get rid of Semyon, switch hosts, and come back here inside some random traveler.** ”

“What? No. If you’re going, then I’m coming with you. I can be your ride back,” Eddie argues. 

Venom turns his head in a sharp, decisive no. “ **You’re staying here. Preferably under Anne and Dan’s supervision. I’m never letting you go near those people again.** ” 

Eddie snorts. “You’re joking, right? Because if you’re serious, that’s incredibly hypocritical. You reamed me out for trying to save you in a way that’s not so different.” 

“ **This plan is minimally dangerous Eddie, and I will not die during its execution.** ”

“Oh, please,” Eddie scoffs. “What if the Russians - doesn’t matter if it’s mobsters or government officials with labs galore to test you in - find out you exist? What if they keep you? Or accidentally kill you? What if Semyon escapes your control? What if you can’t find a host who can carry you back here? What if there’s not enough food on the plane? And you might have to switch travellers during layover because I don’t think there are any non-stop flights from San Francisco to Russia. I could help you, at the very least, with that last p-”

Venom’s hand clamps over his mouth. “ **Shh, Eddie. Relax** ,” he rumbles, as his other hand cradles the back of Eddie’s head. 

Except, now with this new connection formed, Eddie doesn’t have to shut up. 

Mentally sticking his tongue out at V, he continues,  _ The last few days - I did all that to keep you safe, you know. I hated it, but it made sense at the time. I figured you’d survive just fine without me, so there was no point putting you in the line of fire, when you could easily hop hosts and stay out of public view for the rest of eternity. We JUST got done promising we’d be togeth-  _

Eddie’s thoughts literally scatter at the feeling of being rocked like a kid after a nightmare. Since V’s hand has slipped off to curl around him, pulling them close, Eddie’s mouth is free to protest, “I’m being serious, V!” 

“ **It’s not the same, Eddie.** ” 

“Oh, yeah? How is it different?” 

“ **You left me knowing your chances of survival were so low that you were contemplating your own demise** ,” Venom growls, head ducking down to nose at Eddie’s neck.

“And I did it because I wanted to keep you safe. Because you mean - ”

“ **Exactly** ,” Venom says, cutting him off. “ **You left out of love for me. To protect** **_me_ ** **. Don’t mistake my intentions. I am leaving to protect** **_us_ ** **. So that** **_we_ ** **will be safe. And once the chaos amongst the Bratva is in full swing, I will return.** ”

“And if something goes wrong?” Eddie demands, leaning away. Even though Venom’s hold is gentle, he can only go so far. Pushing against the band of Venom’s embrace is like trying to push through concrete. 

**We can never truly be apart** , Venom reminds him over the mental connection. **If something should happen, you will know. If I end up in a laboratory, you will be far enough away to do something about it. Far enough away to ask others for help. We both know you will have more resources at your disposal here than you would if you were trapped in Russia with me.**

Pulling Eddie close again by degrees as Eddie’s resistance weakens, Venom hums, “ **There’s nothing to fear.** ” 

Swallowing hard, Eddie yields to the logic in Venom’s view of the situation. “Okay,” he says, trying not to imagine all the ways the plan could go wrong. 

  
  
  


Agreeing to something doesn’t make it any easier to stomach. 

In the days following Venom’s departure, Eddie stops being a “fully functional human being.” He doesn’t agree with the sentiment, but everyone else around him seems to, judging by how much nagging he has to put up with every day. 

“You should sleep more,” Anne says, looking pointedly at the mug of coffee in front of Eddie.

“It’s mid-afternoon. Plenty of people are having coffee at this hour,” Eddie says, tilting his head at the next table over where two aged ladies are enjoying cappuccinos. “But I will sleep. Tonight.” 

They both know he doesn’t mean it. 

Russia is ahead of San Francisco by 12 hours. When Eddie should be sleeping, Venom’s having his most important (read: dangerous) meetings. 

The first few nights, Eddie tried to sleep, but nightmares kept him awake. 

Images of Venom being dissected with lasers, split into pieces, put under a microscope; of Venom being placed into a noise collar-wearing Host and being told to perform heinous acts for the mob; of Venom hopping from Host to Host throughout Europe, always on the wrong flight; and from there, the dreams just got stupider. 

Now, he doesn’t try anymore. 

With his eyes closed so they won’t burn, he plays backseat passenger as V goes about his daily activities. And in between V’s meetings with the upper echelons of the Bratva, he suffers comically odd attempts at lulling and less-amusing bouts of nagging. 

**You’re going to make yourself sick,** Venom chimes in now with a hiss. 

In the back of Eddie’s mind, he can feel Venom crouched on a high ledge above a bar, still wearing Semyon as he lies in wait for a soused mobster to wander out.

_ Shut up and pay attention to what you’re doing. If anyone sees you eating -  _

**They won’t. I drag my prey into the sewers wearing a Bratva-branded balaclava and eat them with only my teeth showing. Cameras can’t capture the corruption within. But, since we’re talking about food, why haven’t you been eating?**

_ Not hungry. _

**Not acceptable. You were skin and bones when I left. I don’t care if you have to choke it down, but you** **_will_ ** **eat.**

“How goes the apartment hunt?” Anne asks, stirring her tea so the slice of lemon floats to the top. 

“There are a few prospects,” Eddie says. “I’ve got some open house visits scheduled for times when Venom will be free.”

Narrow-eyed, Anne asks, “What difference does it make when Venom’s free? You said you couldn’t call him. That leaving a digital footprint would be dangerous.” 

“Uh...right, um, that part was true. No digital footprints allowed.”

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Anne conjectures, spoon scraping the sides of her cup.

_ Should I tell her? _ Eddie asks across the connection as he takes a long sip of coffee.

**Your choice. You know her better.**

_ Are you two friends now? Do you know if she’d have any...reservations? I don’t want to listen to any lectures about us moving too fast. _

Venom does the mental equivalent of a shrug.  **She helped me find you. Has to count for something.**

Eddie hums in semi-agreement. “Okay...uh, so after V and I...reconnected,” Eddie swallows down another mouthful of coffee and, since there’s so little left in the mug, he drains it. “Oh, look, cup’s empty.” He resists tipping the mug upside down as proof. “Gonna go get myself a refill.” 

Ignoring Anne’s tapping foot, Eddie practically sprints away from the table.

**Milksop.**

_ Easy for you to say. You’re not here right now.  _

The reprieve only lasts a few minutes and then he’s back at the table facing Anne’s suspicious frown. 

“Sorry, where were we?”

“After you and Venom reconnected...” she prompts. 

“Right. Huh. So, we kind of mutually agreed that this kind of situation shouldn’t be allowed to happen again and, after some discussion, the weighing of pros and cons, hashing out of specifics - “

Venom scoffs. 

“ - we determined that the best way to prevent future separation and reduce possible instances of miscommunication would be to form a telepathic connection to one another,” Eddie ends on a mumble.

Anne blinks at him. 

Fuck, there’s no bullshitting a lawyer of Anne’s caliber, no matter how many words you use to try and obfuscate the message. 

“You and Venom can hear each other’s thoughts?” Anne asks, with another slow blink.

Jiggling his foot, Eddie admits, “And other things. Memories, dreams, even mental pathways...hey, did you know that Venom associates Dan with the color purple now?”

He’s expecting some sort of backlash. 

Judgement or warnings akin to those he’d heard after he’d told her Venom had survived the Riot Incident.

Instead, she asks, “You got married over a week ago and didn’t tell me?” 

This time it’s Eddie’s turn to blink at her.

_ You won Anne over? _

**Not on purpose.**

“Uh...it’s not a marriage?” Eddie says, although his voice raises at the end in question.

“No, it’s more intimate than that. Congratulations,” Anne says unironically, lifting her teacup for Eddie to clink with his mug.

  
  
  


Apartment hunting is more complicated than Eddie expected. It’s difficult to look like a semi-normal human being in front of building owners while fielding a never-ending stream of questions from Venom. 

**Where is the nearest place you can buy tater tots and chocolates?**

**Is this a bad neighborhood? Bad enough to eat?**

**How far off the ground is the roof? Does it have a nice view?**

**What kind of music do the people next door listen to?**

When Eddie skips most of Venom’s questions during the first open house visit, he feels a questioning poke from the other side of the connection.

_ They’re the owners, buddy. They’re not gonna know those kinds of things. They might not even live in this building.  _

**Then ask the previous tenants.**

_ If they’re around at the next place, I’ll try asking some of your questions,  _ Eddie concedes. Although he can’t help but think, _ Who knew you’d be so picky about choosing a place to live _ . He had expected Venom to shrug at each apartment with the mentality of “a place is a place.”

**We’re picking a Home, Eddie. Even if it’s just renting, it should be a good place.**

Oh.

  
  


They both agree that the eighth place Eddie visits  looks inviting. It’s a cozy studio next door to a couple in their sixties that’s only a few blocks from Ms. Chen’s convenience store. The hallways in the building smell of incense and are kept lit twenty-four hours a day. The rent is affordable with Eddie’s job at the paper and the terms in the lease agreement seem fair. No pets, no smoking indoors, no excess noise past 10 PM. 

Eddie signs the lease agreement with Venom’s blessing and walks away with two keys - one for the studio, one for the building. Since the apartment has already been vacated, he’s free to move in any time.

**But stay with Anne and Dan until I get back** , Venom says as Eddie’s catching the cable car.

“Why?” Eddie asks, forgetting himself, but no heads turn in his direction, his query eclipsed by the general chatter of conversation in the car.

**Don’t want you to be alone.**

Eddie shakes his head.  _ Alone, not alone. What difference does it make?  _

**Dan is the only reason you eat. And fear of judgment is the only reason you don’t sit at home all day, worrying.**

_ Not true _ , Eddie denies, scowling.

**True, Eddie. Which is why I want you to stay with them. Just for a little while longer.**

_ How much longer? _ Eddie asks, shoulders straightening with attention. 

Christ, it’s almost embarrassing. Even though Venom is in his head day and night, it’s somehow still not enough.  He misses the physical presence of him beneath his skin. 

**Infighting amongst the Bratva teams has begun. Already picked out a Host who has business in California. Flight’s at the end of the week.**

_ I’ll meet you at the airport _ , Eddie says, sinking into his seat with relief.  _ And, in the meantime, I’ll stay with Anne and Dan.  _ Because, though this sounds like good news, there’s already a grain of panic starting to bloom. A million things could go wrong in one week. He’s willing to admit he could use some company to keep his mind from ruminating over all the worst case scenarios.

**Thank you, Eddie.**

  
  


It’s the slowest week of Eddie’s life. 

For one, because he has nothing much to occupy his time with. Writing about all the things Venom gleaned from the mobsters isn’t an option, since they’re trying desperately to keep off the Bratva’s radar. 

Nothing happened. They weren’t involved. No need to send mobsters to investigate why a reporter knows all the secret details of their criminal enterprise. 

Still, it really sucks. The story he  _ could _ write feels like a piece of glass stuck inside him that he’s not allowed to remove, lest he bleed out. 

He goes into work a few times, mostly to tell his boss that the Russian mob story fell through and to attend meetings in the hopes of either being assigned to a new story or to get inspiration for one. 

The rest of his time, he spends in limbo, with brief reprieves towards evening, once the other occupants of the house return from work, usually late given their respective professions. Eddie tries to have dinner ready for them, since it’s the least he can do. It’s simple stuff - spaghetti, tacos, club sandwiches, soup. 

“Sorry it’s nothing fancier. It’s been a very long time since I cooked and I was never all that great at it.”

“Nonsense,” Dan says, digging into today’s dinner - mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “It looks,” he samples the food, “and tastes delicious.”

“Not bad,” Anne echoes, throwing Eddie a wink. It’s the recipe she taught him back when they were together. 

Eddie grins back, ignoring Venom’s voice in the back of his head complaining,  **Your plate’s too empty.**

_ I can’t eat when I’m nervous. _

**There’s no reason to be. I’m waiting at a gate in Frankfurt to get onto a connecting flight. Everything worked out fine. Also, I’ve seen you eat plenty of times when you were nervous.**

_ That was  _ you _ eating when I was nervous. Not me. And what if your plane crashes before you get here. You could end up inside a shark. What if you can’t navigate to shore? What would I do then? Get a job as a deckhand on a trawler and spend my days searching for you at sea? _

Venom laughs outright.  **Ridiculous. I’ll be fine.**

But the pit in Eddie’s stomach refuses to disappear.  _ It could happen. _

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> конец - or the end, as some would say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make of the ending what you will, and know that the only reason this story didn't take a year to write is because of all of the awesome, supportive comments! They helped so much, you have no idea! 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, results on the stories. I'll write the humorous (will it be short? I'd be happier if it was short...i think) story first and then try a hand at the more serious one. Although, maybe I suck at humor? This ending was supposed to be funnier and I know I've said that about other chapters...oh well. 
> 
> Fare thee well ;)

  
  
  


Standing in the arrivals section of the airport, Eddie sways back and forth on his heels, occasionally shifting from foot to foot.

_ So, what does the person you’re wearing look like?  _ he mentally asks.

**Their hair is too thin but the eyebrows are neat. Also, they have ten fingernails.**

_ Uh, do you have something more specific for me, bud? A lot of people have thin hair, neat eyebrows, and ten fingernails. _

**Mobsters didn’t.**

_ Okay, so you’re not in a mobster. That’s definitely a good thing. What else can you tell me about them? Like, approximate age, race, gend -  _

**Their skin smells like cheese.**

_ V, buddy, you know I can’t smell people from a distance. I’d have to be standing right next to you. Or go around sniffing every person coming through the gate.  _

**Wonder if I could make your senses sharper? Maybe if I tweaked your olfactory system, created more odor molecule receptors -**

_ Whoa, wait! No, bad idea,V. I don’t really think I want to have super smell. Can we focus on the problem at hand? Your descriptions are...great, but I’m looking for colors, shapes, distinguishing features. _

“ **I can tell when you’re lying, Eddie. You didn’t find the descriptions useful at all. Definitely not great** ,” Venom mutters right in Eddie’s ear, making him jump. 

(Definitely with no accompanying high-pitched mini-shriek of surprise.)

And, oh, wow. V’s Host really does smell strongly of Blue Cheese. It’s so bad that Eddie takes a step back. “There weren’t any better choices?”

Venom shrugs, holding out a hand. “ **This one’s smell kept others away and he’s on a business trip so no one’s meeting him here** .”

With a grimace, Eddie takes the hand but his firm grip soon starts to squeeze involuntarily as Venom begins the transfer. His knees shiver at the feel of Venom absorbing into him and stretching out under his skin. 

_ Fuck, it’s been so long. Did it always feel this good? _

**Better now because of the connection. More complete. Missed you, Eddie.**

_ Missed you too, V. So goddamn much. _

Beneath his shirt, Eddie can feel Venom rising above his skin, to cover his torso with just enough constriction to feel like a hug, except that everywhere he touches, nerves thrum. It’s like a cross between tiny shocks of electricity across his chest and that weak feeling that comes with too much exercise.

“Uh... Entschuldigung? Escuse mi?” the German asks, blinking rapidly as he comes back into himself.

“Oh, um, welcome to San Francisco!” Eddie says, carefully extracting his hand.

The German nods brusquely and then looks about himself. “When did I...my bag!” he goes running for the information desk, already pointing towards the Arrivals exit where the bag carousels are.

Eddie wants to move, but he’s afraid that if he takes a step, he’ll crash like water suddenly released from a cracked aquarium. “C-can you drive?” 

The woman Eddie’s awkwardly facing flicks him a look. “Need some help, sweetie?” she asks. 

“ **Not from you** ,” Venom growls. 

Sweeping a stabilizing tendril into each of Eddie’s limbs, Venom takes the reigns, heading toward the parking lot as he sifts through Eddie’s mental schedule.  **Why did you agree to a meeting with your boss at the paper?**

_ He said he only needed a few minutes. I didn’t think I’d feel like this.  _

Straddling Eddie’s bike, Venom sighs.  **The state we are in is not fit for company.**

Given how his insides are quivering, Eddie can’t help but agree. Especially since he only has the length of the ride back into the city proper to get ahold of himself. 

But, needs must. 

New apartment means new bills to pay. Not to mention, Eddie still feels guilty about skipping the mafia story. So much information, and all of it will go to waste.

**Dangerous, Eddie.**

_ I know. Doesn’t make it feel any better though. _

**You’re hoping he has a new story for us.**

Breathing on a bike is a trick. Air’s always pressing in, flowing over you, whipping at clothes and seams. Anything that isn’t tied down typically goes flying. But it’s hearing the word “us” again and feeling the truth of it that steels Eddie’s breath as they head northbound on the US-101.

_ Would be nice to have something productive to do.  _

**Could think of plenty of things for you to do, Eddie** , Venom says in a rumbling tone that adds to the already substantial vibration of the bike and his raw nerves. 

What’s worse is that Venom fills his head with images. 

Tantalizing, decadent, tormenting images that burn onto his retinas and threaten to…

_ I hate you. I hate you so much. Oh, god, stop at the nearest fast food joint. I need to… _

**Use the restroom?** Venom hums, all too pleasantly.

_ HATE. YOU.  _

**Love you too, Eddie** , Venom says, a wide grin stretching across his face as he parks in front of a Dunkin’ Donuts, right across the creek from a place called Hotel V, of all things.

  
  


Eddie barely makes the appointment. 

His pants have thankfully air-dried enough that he can walk in with his shirt tucked in. Or Venom can walk in, really, because Eddie’s control over his limbs is still a little unstable. 

“Hey, Eddie.” Mr. Glass welcomes him in with a gesture towards a chair. “Last we spoke, you were still looking for a story, correct?” 

“Yessir,” Eddie says as Venom seats them in the leftmost chair.

“Fantastic. This was originally going to be Valerie’s, but her mother was hospitalized last night so she won’t be able to make the game,” Glass says, selecting a sheaf of stapled paper from his desk and holding it out for Eddie to take.

“Game?” Eddie takes the pages, flipping through them. When he sees the photo, he freezes. 

**Oh, we know him.** Venom has to tighten their hold on the papers to keep them from slipping to the floor. 

_ That’s not a good thing, V! _

“Today is Luke Crawford’s first game back since his upset a few weeks ago. His therapist just cleared him. By the by, did you see that game?” Mr. Glass taps the table thoughtfully. “It was an absolute disaster. Against the Yankees, no less! Poor boy must have been terribly embarrassed. Anyway, we’ve got copies of all the tapes from the stadium cameras and there was plenty of coverage so you can select a clip to include with the online article.”

Swallowing hard, Eddie says, “Uh, sir? I’m not sure you want me on this story. I mean, I wouldn’t want to steal Valerie’s thunder. She must’ve been looking forward to this interview. Especially with everything that happened at the last game - “

“Oh, indeed! You’ll want to ask about the details. Mr. Crawford hasn’t admitted what inspired him to climb the backstop and the footage isn’t particularly elucidating. Some of it suggests he was being chased by a few beefy men in tracksuits? But then he also seemed to be chasing after someone? Kept yelling things into the stands, before and after he jumped into them. Actually, I think he was calling your name, now that I - ”

“This looks like a great story,” Eddie cuts Mr. Glass off. “Thank you for the opportunity.”  _ Move _ , he tells Venom.

**He’s not done talking.**

_ He’ll never be done talking! If you don’t get out of here, he’ll just start a new conversation. The game’s in an hour and I have to call Valerie, see if I can’t convince her to either take the story or recommend someone else. _

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Glass continues. “Also, don’t forget to ask for a copy of the drug test. They made him take one, obviously. According to other news outlets, he passed the screening for illegal substances, but everyone’s still very suspicious.”

“People love to speculate,” Eddie says, a strained grin on his face.  _ Move _ !

Lazily finding his feet, V waves the papers at Mr. Glass in mock salute. 

As soon as they’re past the threshold, Eddie’s digging a floppy hand into his pocket for his cellphone. 

**You don’t want this story?** V asks, pulling Eddie’s eyes away from the phone so he can read through the first page.

_ Hell no! I don’t ever want to run into Luke Crawford, again. Shit, he’ll probably kill me if he ever sees my face again.  _

**Wouldn’t die, Eddie. Wouldn’t let you** , V hums, utterly self-assured.  **Don’t you want to control the message?** He asks, directing Eddie’s attention to the transcript from the game. In particular, the times Luke Crawford was recorded shouting his name.

Finding Valerie’s number in the contacts, Eddie presses the dial button. It goes straight to voicemail. Motherfu - 

**You could make Luke look good, so he won’t hate you. Stop people from calling him a drug addict. You’re good at telling stories.**

Eddie feels a little stab of feeling on V’s end of the connection. Something a little bitter - a touch salty. There’s rifling going on in his head. A kaleidoscope of memories flashing briefly.  _ What are you looking for? _

**Do you even like baseball? I have never known you to watch games played by others on the TV, but some people do. Even Luke Crawford, who plays in them, had a genuine love for watching games.**

Eddie rubs the back of his head, guiltily.  _ I’ve been to a few games in my life. They were...kinda boring to watch, honestly. I know the rules of baseball, some of the key players from back in the day and their stats, but... _ Eddie shrugs.  _ Why are you asking? _

**You insisted on taking us into a dangerous situation, citing sentimentality over a game you were bored with. I should have noticed. You spent most of the game thinking about me. Talking to me. I should have noticed. I insulted the game and laughed at it, but you didn’t care. You had no attachment to who would win. AND I SHOULD HAVE NOTICED.**

Eddie’s hands form fists and squeeze the air with Venom’s angry distress.

_ Hey, what’s wrong? I thought we were past this? I...thought you forgave m -  _

Venom’s tongue is suddenly in his mouth, curling and constricting around his own. The ripple of pleasure that runs through Eddie at those soft, slick caresses is incredibly awkward, given they’re still just outside the boss’s office. 

_ Not the place, V. _

But the...kiss (?) slowly gentles as Venom writhes over and beneath his skin. Silky and smooth. It’s both an apology and a gentling. 

Eddie is being gentled. 

But, why? There’s an unspoken issue here that Eddie can tell is all wrapped up and neatly packaged in the phrase “I should have noticed.” 

_ It should go without saying, but you can’t blame yourself for things I did,  _ he says, hesitant, because Venom knows that, right? It hasn’t come up in the last two weeks. Then again, they haven’t really talked about the game since the day Eddie got captured.

**Should have seen.**

_ Wait, you actually feel  _ guilty _ about what happened? About what  _ I _ did?  _

**Could have been prevented if I had been paying attention.**

_ You were exhausted.  _

**NO EXCUSE.**

_ You trusted me and  _ I _ lied to you. _

**I know you, Eddie. You wouldn’t have risked us for baseball. It should have been obvious.**

_ Well, that was then, this is now. There’s no point feeling guilty about things you can’t change,  _ Eddie tries, gently. He’s not sure what else he can say to erase Venom’s guilt. He’s had more practice talking himself into a guilty frame of mind than out of one. As he’s trying to think of something, Venom waves the phone in front of his face.

With a sigh, Eddie takes the phone and tries the three numbers he knows from the office a few times. The calls either go to voicemail or get disconnected as someone on the other end immediately hangs up.

Eddie sweeps his gaze over the clumps of cubicles, but none of the senior members of staff are in. Just a few interns hard at work editing fluff pieces or doing background research. 

**Where to, Eddie?**

With a pained groan, Eddie says, “The stadium.”

They ride the elevator down to street level, where Venom hops on Eddie’s bike. But rather than turning it on right away, he pauses for a moment to stroke the fuel tank, then the handlebars. 

“Um...V? Want me to drive?” Eddie asks, feeling about half-way to normal.

Without a word, Venom turns the key and pulls into traffic.

His silence is discomfiting and though Eddie knows he could go fishing through Venom’s thoughts, he’d rather ask. It’s  _ polite _ to ask. But what’s the right question?

Before he can find one, V asks,  **Ever wish you had more choices?**

Eddie waits for an accompanying image or more information, but Venom doesn’t present him with anything. 

_ What kind of choices are you thinking? More apartments to choose from? More clothing options in my price range? Healthier snack options at the grocery store? What?  _

**More symbiotes.**

Eddie’s suddenly very glad that he’s not in control of the motorcycle because that question would’ve likely caused an accident.  _ What kind of question is that?! _

**A normal one. Most humans select their mates for specific reasons - attractiveness, intelligence, humor, money. Before me, you selected Anne. She rejected you when you did something unacceptable. Then you ended up with me, but I didn’t give you a choice. Wanted you for myself. Didn’t want to let you choose, but you never asked to be given the opportunity. Your interest in cultivating more and varied human relationships fell away. But even amongst mobsters, love requires choice. You chose me over other humans, but would you choose me over other symbiotes?**

It’s not an option to stay silent. That part at least is clear, because Venom’s asking a serious question. But once again, Eddie’s at a loss.  _ Where’s this coming from, V? You know I love you.  _

The images that spring forth are odd, full of scenes that in Eddie’s mind seem disconnected, so Venom explains.

For the image of Eddie in the stands at the baseball game, Venom says,  **Instead of thinking critically about the situation, I was lulled into sleep and ended up in a foreign Host.**

For the image of Eddie stumbling into the IHOP, Venom says,  **Instead of following your scent, tracking you down, or outsmarting you, I found you by accident.**

For the image of Eddie in the torture room, Venom says,  **Instead of telling you the plan, I left you in a room full of ways to hurt yourself with the means to escape your bindings in your pocket.**

**The past month wouldn’t have happened if you were Riot’s Host.**

_ V, none of that was your fault! You’ve got access to my mind. Why do you even need to ask whether I’d choose you?  _

**Because you’ve never thought about it. You made a choice between me and other humans, but maybe what you were choosing was the kind of relationship that would fit you best. You’d be lonely with less than what we have, but what if the symbiote inside you was like Anne? Or like Riot?** **_Think_ ** **about it.**

_ No _ , Eddie says, scowling.

**Why not?**

_ Because it’s a stupid exercise, V. What’s the point of considering it? Or is this you trying to let me down easy? Did you decide that maybe you’d prefer to trade up in the two weeks you were away? I mean, as Semyon, you were able to eat whatever and whoever you wanted. A man like that has plenty of money and power. He may not be an option anymore, but hey! Luke Crawford also has a pretty good life. You could land him a few home runs, make him a legend, and in return you could travel the world in off seasons. Plenty of food out there besides chocolate and tater tots. What do you think? Since we’re headed to the stadium, I can take a moment after the interview to slip you back into Luke, if you want.  _

Oh, boy. Too far.  _ Way _ too far.

Eddie mentally slips away from the hornet’s nest he just kicked on V’s side of the connection.

Venom’s breaths are hot and shallow as he very carefully pulls the bike up to the curve and turns off the engine. It takes him a long, solid minute to calm down enough for coherent thought. 

“ **Symbiotes are malleable. I can change in ways a human can’t. Our connection is forever. It would be better to change now if it means you’ll always be happy. My question was** **_fair_ ** **.** ” Venom growls, needing the vocal release too much to say the words internally. “ **ANSWER. IT** ,” he commands. As for everything Eddie said, it’s clear from all the internal cursing that Venom won’t dignify it with a response. 

Venom waits until Eddie begrudgingly shifts his focus before he starts the engine, which takes a good few seconds because he still thinks it’s a stupid question with an unknowable answer, not too different from asking, would the world be better with unicorns in it? 

Who the fuck knows? 

Is a unicorn like a horse or more like a rhino in temperment? Do they live in forests? Which forests? Because the Amazon’s lifespan is getting shorter every year. Are they carnivorous? Do they hunt virgins? Or are they like normal animals? 

**Focus, Eddie** , Venom prods with involuntary amusement. 

Because Venom has a similar sense of humor. Mentally, Eddie puts that in the Pro Column, because if he’s being forced to do this, he may as well be organized about it.

Another Pro is Venom’s cheap, albeit unhealthy, tastes, given that Eddie doesn’t mind a diet of mainly sugar and starch and Venom’s both willing and able to fix any part of Eddie that might be affected by a bad diet. 

And, now that he’s thinking about it, another Pro, oddly enough, is how Venom turns into a troll whenever he gets bored, which is pretty frequently, and usually he chooses to troll Eddie. He likes to tease and poke and prod and ask questions at the worst possible times, but it’s...fun. Never boring. 

Doesn’t matter where he goes, or what he’s doing, Venom makes the experience better. Hell, even the way this all started was because Eddie had felt safe walking into a dangerous situation with Venom. He definitely doesn’t ever want to do it again, but he’d technically been right. Venom did win out in the end.

He likes their relationship as it is. 

Are there any Cons? Other than the unavoidable ones, like the massive grocery bill and penchant for eating criminals? 

Not really. 

_ You could let me sleep in a little longer on weekends _ , Eddie offers up just as Venom’s looking for a parking spot.

**That’s it? The only way you can imagine this relationship being better is if I let you sleep more?**

_ Yeah, guess so _ , Eddie says as he shifts V’s gaze to a space near the stadium entrance already half-taken by another motorcycle.  _ Park there. _

Venom hisses unhappily.  **Not a good place to park. The bike could get hit if the other rider wants to get out first or if the car parked next to this spot swings the door open too far.**

_ It’ll be fine. There’s cameras in this lot. If someone hits the bike, we can probably get a license plate. And if not, I’ve got insurance. We’re going to miss our pre-game time slot with Luke if we don’t head in now.  _

**Not a good parking spot** , Venom insists. 

But Eddie feels more stable now, his limbs no longer jittery without Venom’s support, so he parks the bike himself, swings his leg over, and starts walking away. They’ve got fifteen minutes to get through check-in and find the locker rooms.

**You can’t leave it here** , Venom insists again, stopping Eddie in his tracks. 

_ Seriously? Why are you so upset about the… _

Eddie sees a flash of an image. Luke Crawford standing all night next to the abandoned bicycle. A bike. 

A goddamn bike.

What the actual fuck?!

“YOU’RE NOT A BIKE, V!” Eddie shouts, kicking the side of his motorcycle so that it sways precariously. Suddenly, the conversation they just had seems so much more twisted. “Leaving you because I thought you were going to die and abandoning a bike that I didn’t need anymore are  _ not _ the same thing. Never was. Never will be. Bikes are  _ tools _ . You can upgrade them, swap out parts, and abandon them when they stop being useful. I’m not going to leave you even if you wake me up at dawn everyday. I’m not going to wish you looked or acted more human, because it’s not what I fucking  _ want _ . And I don’t want you to change, unless experience changes you. You’re not a fucking tool. You’re my everything, so drop the fucking metaphor!”

People are staring. 

He can feel them watching as they carefully back away from the crazy dude who just got done kicking a motorcycle and shouting to himself. But their reaction doesn’t matter. 

What matters is the slide of tendrils along his spine as Venom covers his shoulders with warm pressure. **Ok, Eddie.** There’s a caress along the back of his neck, soothing brushes against his earlobes, the flicker of a foreign tongue along the top of his mouth…

All wonderful sensations, but not in a parking lot right before an interview.  _ You gotta stop doing this to me in public, V _ , Eddie says, reduced once again to trembling in place.

Venom hums inside him without remorse.  **You’ve got a bigger problem than tight jeans, Eddie.**

_ Yeah? What’s that? _

**You met with Luke at the last game and he started shouting things in public. Now, you’re here to interview him and you’re the one shouting things in public. If you’re not careful, the next question on people’s minds will be whether you’re Luke’s drug supplier.**

_ Unless I can convince them that the AT&T Park is haunted by a ghost that regularly possesses people and makes them shout outrageous things. _

**_Can_ ** **you convince them?**

_ Not a chance. Maybe I can spin it as a symptom of a new disease? _

Venom just hums again, licking a stripe behind Eddie’s ear.

  
  
  
  


The only reason Eddie’s not late to the interview is because he remembers from his last visit there was a sign in the service hall pointing down one end to get to the locker rooms. Luke’s agent is there to meet and prep him, laying down the law on what kind of questions he’s allowed to ask and handing him the official statement Luke recently put out to explain his behavior at the previous game.

“A bad reaction to pain prescription meds?”

Kimberly, the agent, glares at him until he repeats the lie back to her before letting him through.

The locker room is busy with activity as players prepare for the game. Some of them look to be completing little rituals or futzing with their uniforms as Eddie lets Venom direct them by scent to Luke’s row. 

The experience isn’t foreign to him. Early in his career, Eddie used to stand by with some of the camera equipment as the newscaster he was job-shadowing conducted interviews with football players. He tries to use that to quell some of his panic at seeing Luke again. Maybe the man won’t remember him? After all, their exchange was pretty quick and the rest of Luke’s day must have been traumatic.

**He’ll remember you.** Venom rolls his tongue past Eddie’s lips when he finds the correct row, flickering to taste the air.

_ What are you doing? _ Eddie’s eyes dart around to check if anyone’s looking, but the other players don’t pay him no mind. Likely used to reporters coming in solely to interview Luke after the last game.

**Tastes like you, Eddie** , is all the warning he gets before Venom takes control, closing the distance to Luke’s locker and prying the door open rather violently. 

“Hey, what are - “

Eddie tries to look in the direction of the voice, but Venom wrenches them back, reaching into the locker to grab a...familiar sweatshirt. 

“ - you doing?!” Luke’s hand closes over Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him to spin around. There’s a long moment where they just stare at each other. “Y-y-you!” Luke points an accusing finger in Eddie’s face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Before Eddie can answer, Venom waves the sweatshirt in Luke’s face and growls, “ **Mine** .”

“Oh shit.” Luke promptly steps back. “S-so I guess you both s-survived? That’s cool, man. Great. Peachy, in fact.” He takes another step back. “Wh-what are you doing here, though?”

Smiling weakly at Luke, Eddie waves his pen and notepad. “Here for an interview. I’m the last minute replacement for Valerie Kingston. She was going to ask you about...the last game.” 

Nostrils flaring, Luke nods violently. “Yeah,” he takes a step forward, shoulders straightening, “Yeah, let’s talk about last game.”

As Eddie starts to sweat, nervous at the posture and proximity of the huge baseball player that has every right to be pissed at him, Venom forces him to grin, showing off a trap jaw of needle teeth. “ **Careful** ,” he growls, and only relinquishes control back to Eddie once Luke has quailed.

“Sorry about him,” Eddie says, rubbing the back of his head, sheepishly. Lord knows he deserves to get pummeled for leaving Luke with an alien symbiote. He’d been trying to think of long-term solutions with a focus on what would be best for Venom, callously ignoring the fact that the stranger he’d be transferring V into would have their life altered. “But hopefully I can make up for what I did? Provide you some closure, help paint you in the best light?”

Crossing his arms, Luke sighs. “I can’t believe all of that shit actually happened. I mean, I knew it must’ve. I’ve been keeping that sweatshirt as a reminder that I’m not actually crazy. There really was an alien inside of me.” 

His voice drops down to a whisper, forcing Eddie to lean in. 

“How can you stand it? I mean, talk about the worst kind of violation. It’s always fucking there and it never shuts up. You want to piss? It’s there. You want to eat something? Better get its approval first. You want to stop obsessively hunting for the person who fucked you over? Not an option. I was a passenger in my own body for most of that time and luckily he didn’t want to stay. Otherwise, even though he wasn’t all that bad, I would’ve been desperate to find a lab that would be able to extract him. I mean, how do you have any sort of life with Venom inside you? Have you thought about your future? What about a wife? What about kids? How’s any of that going to work?” 

“Uh, I’m actually here to interview  _ you _ ,” Eddie reminds him, but Luke’s set posture makes it clear that he wants to know and now Venom’s attention is caught. He admits, awkwardly, “I wasn’t really in my right mind when I...forced him into you. Your future honestly didn’t even cross my mind. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that, because you’re right. I don’t think having a wife and kids would work with Venom. Luckily, I’m not really interested in...all that.”

Luke looks dumbstruck. “But, even a one-night stand - “ he starts and then snaps his teeth shut over the question, recognizing Eddie’s blush as a warning not to go down that path. Raising his hands in surrender, he says finally, “So, you said you can shore up my image? What kind of questions do you have for me?” 

Blessedly, the interview is short, sweet, and on-topic. Eddie lays out exactly how he’s going to structure the article, promising to make the part about the pain meds as persuasive as he knows how and they part on much better terms than Eddie thought they would. 

 

**Are we staying for the game?** Venom asks, suddenly halting their progress towards the seats Eddie’s looking for. 

_ Yup. Figured I could start drafting the article during the game and show it to Luke or his agent afterward. Get their approval before I submit it for editing. _

Spreading a tendril over Eddie’s ribs, Venom demands,  **food first** , and forces the sweatshirt over Eddie’s head. The thing’s so big, it easily fits over his motorcycle jacket. 

_ Wait, no, it’s too warm for this. _ Eddie tries to remove the sweatshirt at the same time as Venom’s trying to force his arms through the sleeves. They end up wrestling with the material in the middle of the aisle until there’s a cough behind Eddie. 

Giving up, Eddie lets Venom dress him in the sweatshirt. 

_ Why, though? It’s not nearly cold enough to be wearing this many layers? _ Eddie asks, heading towards the food vendors.

Resting along his shoulders, Venom rolls over his skin in a gentle wave.  **Just wear it, loser.**

_ It’s too warm! _

**Then take off the motorcycle jacket** .

_ The jacket looks better than the sweatshirt!  _

**Not to me** , Venom rumbles, his voice a phantom vibration in Eddie’s chest. 

_ Wha - seriously?! _

**Makes you look small.**

_ So, you’re actively trying to make me look ridiculous? _

Venom stops them in front of a hotdog vendor.  **Not ridiculous. Cute, Eddie. Also, it hides a lot of space on you. Gives me room to do this.**

Eddie nearly yelps as Venom slides over the top of his jeans, still covered by the baggy, thigh-length sweatshirt. He’d bought it so long ago, back when he’d thought his career would leave him sitting out on rooftops gathering surveillance with a pair of binoculars and recording equipment. Big enough to fit his knees under in lieu of a blanket. Giving a symbiote a new way to clandestinely molest him in public had not been part of the imagined use case. 

_ You absolute jerk! _

**Order food, Eddie. Line behind you is growing.**

It’s not, but with a sigh, Eddie asks, “How many you want?”

“No, man, how many do  _ you _ want?” the hot dog vendor asks, squinting at Eddie’s face.

The exchange feels kind of like deja vu. Especially when Venom grumbles,  **All of them, Eddie. You haven’t been eating. Gotten so thin, your body’s cannibalizing muscle.**

“Uh, how about you fill up one of those family-sized trays?” Eddie asks. “Feel free to stack them high.” 

The hot dog vendor gapes at him. “You’re the man from last time!” he says suddenly in recognition. 

“Oh...yeah” Eddie grimaces. “Just really love hot dogs.” 

“You’re gonna eat yourself into a heart attack,” the vendor warns, stacking a pyramid of 40. Then he offers him to stack another set after he’s done. 

“Nah, thanks,” Eddie says over Venom’s internal protests. “This is plenty.” 

**Not enough, Eddie.**

_ I’ll eat something at home, V. We’re not on the run anymore. We can eat whatever we want without arousing the suspicions of hot dog vendors who like to offer unsolicited dietary advice. _

**Should have reminded us before we bought a pyramid of dead chemical meat,** Venom mutters as Eddie finds his seat in the stands. Then, after a pause, he asks,  **Why are you smiling like that?**

Biting his lip, Eddie can’t verbalize the feeling so he shares it - the warm, desperate relief of being together again when he’d been so sure last time he was here that everything would end in disaster. 

Fuck, he’d been so  _ sure _ . 

Sitting in this stadium, with a pile of hot dogs in his lap, Eddie remembers how he’d struggled a few weeks ago to phrase a goodbye that wouldn’t sound like one, trying to leave Venom with a sense of how much he meant to him. Hoping that it would soothe the ache of abandonment, that it would bring the symbiote some measure of peace in his new Host. 

Venom’s own relief joins his, much like the way he curls claw-shaped tendrils over Eddie’s hands in a fierce clasp.  **Can’t happen again, Eddie. Impossible now.**

Of all the things to make Eddie sniffle over his hot dogs, it’s Venom’s absolute certainty that does it. 

**Making us look pathetic, Eddie** , Venom hums, without any real care. 

_ Shut up, V _ , Eddie says, teary-eyed and grinning.  _ It’s just so good to be us again.  _

**I know, Eddie.** Beneath the sweatshirt, Venom curls tighter.  **I know.**

  
  
  



End file.
